


The Arsonists

by Asu_Shu_Namir



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - 90s, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bisexual Sokka (Avatar), Gay Zuko (Avatar), Homophobia, Iroh (Avatar) is a Good Uncle, Lesbian Azula (Avatar), M/M, Ozai (Avatar) is an Asshole, POV Sokka (Avatar), Past Child Abuse, Past Sokka/Yue (Avatar), Period-Typical Homophobia, Sibling Bonding, Slurs, Sokka (Avatar) Has ADHD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26761876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asu_Shu_Namir/pseuds/Asu_Shu_Namir
Summary: Sokka was just trying to make some money working at his dad's warehouse for a year. Of course Portland's most feared gang of arsonists had to come mess everything up.Meanwhile, the Gaang deals with rising homophobia in 1990s Oregon.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azula/Ty Lee (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Minor or Background Relationship(s), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), Toph Beifong & Katara, Toph Beifong & Sokka
Comments: 38
Kudos: 131





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Am I the only person on earth who watched a documentary and immediately decided to write a Zukka story about it? Maybe. Will that stop me? No.

“You sure you can do this?”

“Of course.”

“And you’re sure you don’t want a thicker jacket?”

“Dad, I grew up in _Alaska._ I’ll be fine.” The only good thing about having to pack up his life and move to Oregon, Sokka thought, was that he no longer needed all those layers.

“Okay.” Hakoda started to walk towards his car, then stopped and turned back. “Thanks. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Happy to help.” Sokka watched as his dad drove away from the warehouse, then leaned against the wall and pulled yesterday’s newspaper out of his pocket. It would be a long night.

_OCA Moves Forward With Ballot Measure 9; Yamazaki Announces Governor Run._ He rolled his eyes. It was 1992--he’d have hoped the world would be past this by now. But, of course, the world never moved as quickly as he wanted it to. Ballot Measure 9 would set the gay rights movement back decades. And now one of its main proponents, Ozai Yamazaki, was running for governor. Oh joy.

Skimming the article, Sokka saw the typical slogans of the OCA in Yamazaki’s speech: _Affirming our traditional Christian values. No special rights for homosexuals._ “Special rights? Let’s start with _rights,”_ he said to no one in particular. Then he ripped off the front page of the newspaper, balled it up, and threw it into the street.

He moved to put the newspaper back into his coat, but something on the third page caught his eye. A black-and-white photograph of a charred wall, spray-painted with a design of curling flames and the name _The Agni Kais._ An article on them, huh? That might be interesting.

The Agni Kais were a name that everybody in Portland had learned to fear. In the past few months they had burned down dozens of buildings--mostly vacant ones, but enough occupied businesses that everyone who could afford it was hiring security. And everyone who couldn’t afford it was asking their sons to stand guard all night. Or maybe that was just Sokka’s dad. Either way, it was his job to make sure the Agni Kais didn’t burn down his family’s warehouse, and he took it very seriously.

The article on them didn’t contain much information--just that an abandoned building in Southeast Portland had been burned--but the photo intrigued him. The swirling flames and elegant cursive was no ordinary gang tag, and had clearly been done by someone with considerable artistic talent. He also noted the skill and control of the arsonists: almost the entire building was destroyed, except for the single wall where their tag was painted, which was untouched. And, somehow, despite being a high-profile gang, not a single member had ever been caught. Whoever these people were, they were professionals.

Sokka stood up and began to walk. The warehouse was enormous, and impossible to guard on all sides, a fact that infuriated him. He would have to spend the night constantly circling it--just thinking about it made him tired. But the plus side was that nobody would be able to approach without him noticing.

As if on cue, a red pickup truck came slowly up the road towards him. Sokka frowned--it was late at night, and there was barely anybody still around--and his frown deepened when the truck turned into the parking lot of his warehouse. _It’s probably nothing, just some visitors who got lost,_ he told himself as he walked towards them. They had parked just out of sight-- _damn this stupid giant warehouse._ By the time he could see them, two figures had gotten out of the truck, but had left the doors open and the engine running. One was in the process of removing several gasoline cans from the truck bed. 

Okay, they were _definitely_ not lost visitors.

The figure by the truck bed straightened and unscrewed the cap of the gas can she was holding. The other picked up a can of spray-paint and walked over to the wall. Sokka’s feet pounded on the asphalt as he ran over. “Hey!”

The two figures turned around. It was a young Asian couple, a guy and a girl, both wearing bulky black clothing and bandanas over their mouths. In the guy’s case, though, it was useless--the skin around his left eye and half his forehead were covered in a mass of red, either a birthmark or a very bad scar. He shook the can of spray-paint. “Don’t come any closer, kid.”

Sokka thought this was a bit unfair, considering they looked to be about the same age. “Get the hell away from my dad’s warehouse.”

“Ooh, your _dad’s_ warehouse?” The girl’s voice was cool and emotionless, almost terrifyingly so. Somehow, he could tell she was smirking under her bandana. “What do you say? Should we leave him alone in the name of fatherly love?” She turned back to the wall and began to sprinkle the gasoline. Clearly, she wasn’t actually entertaining the idea of leaving him alone.

Her boyfriend shifted his weight. “I don’t know. We’ve never done this somewhere with people--”

“Oh, stop being such a baby. We’re not leaving until we’ve done what we came here to do.” She pulled a matchbook from her pocket and struck one. It must have been laced with copper chloride, because the flame that flared up was bright blue, and she looked even more dangerous in the flickering light.

Before he fully processed what he was doing, Sokka lunged at her. The guy casually stuck out a leg, tripping him. Sokka suddenly found himself knocked flat on his back. He lifted himself up to his elbows. “The Agni Kais!” he yelled as soon as he caught his breath. Hopefully there was someone around to hear.

The guy tugged on his girlfriend’s elbow. “We gotta go.” She didn't move.

Footsteps pounded on the pavement in the distance. A dog barked. Just around the corner, a flashlight beam appeared.

He tossed his spray-paint can back in the truck bed. “We gotta _go.”_

The girl looked at the blank wall he had been about to tag. Then she shook her match out. “No point in doing it if they won’t know it was us.” She got into the driver’s seat. Her boyfriend barely had enough time to clamber in the passenger side door before she stepped on the gas and took off.

* * *

  
  


The police came just before sunrise and took a brief statement from Sokka. There wasn’t much to tell--a young couple, presumably members of the Agni Kais, had come to the warehouse, nearly burned it down, and left. That was all. They hadn’t even left behind anything that could be used as evidence. The police left, promising to keep him updated, but he doubted they would.

“Long night?”

Sokka turned around. Katara stood behind him, one hand in her pocket and the other holding a Thermos full of coffee. She passed it to him. He took a sip, then handed it back. “You could say that.”

“Something happen?”

“I met two of the Agni Kais.”

She stepped back, almost spilling her coffee. "You met _who?"_

“Yeah. They were gonna burn this place down, but I stopped them. Like the hero I am.”

Katara pretended not to notice the brag. “Did you get a good look at them? God, I’ve been putting out those assholes’ fires for _months.”_ When she wasn’t at one of her two paying jobs, Katara worked as a volunteer junior firefighter. Sokka had raised an eyebrow when she announced her plan, but it seemed to make her really happy. She’d dreamed of being a firefighter since she was a little kid.

“It was pretty dark, and they were wearing bandanas over their noses and mouths, so I didn’t see much. They were a guy and a girl--I’m pretty sure they were both Asian--and the guy was pretty tall.” He didn’t mention the scar. It felt weirdly personal to tell Katara about it, even though he didn’t owe the guy anything.

“Did you notice anything else unusual? Come on, Detective Sokka, I know you’ve got something.”

When he and Katara were young, they had a set of dolls representing different professions. They had wanted superhero action figures, but their dad had only been able to find these, so they made do. Katara always played as the fireman--saving people from fires was about as heroic as it got in her book--and Sokka as the policeman. They would invent mysteries and solve them together on their bedroom floor during the long winter nights.

Sokka thought through his encounter with the Agni Kais. He snapped his fingers. “The girl had a trick match. One of those ones that burns blue instead of orange.”

Katara immediately caught on. “There can’t be that many places in Portland that sell them,” she said. “Let’s go, Detective Sokka. We’ve got a mystery to solve.”

* * *

“Movie detectives never have this much trouble,” Sokka grumbled as he and Katara left the fourth store on their list. Everyone they had tried so far hadn’t sold any trick matches recently, or didn’t remember, or didn’t want to talk to them. The owner of this store, A-to-Z Party Supply, had just laughed when they asked to see his list of customers.

“As much as you might love them, Sokka, detective movies aren’t exactly the pinnacle of accuracy.” Katara elbowed him in the ribs, then glanced at her watch. _“Shit._ I’m late for my shift.”

“Goodbye to you, too!” he yelled after her as she sprinted away. Then he looked back down at the list of stores. “Four down, eleven to go.”

“I wouldn’t go looking all over town for the matches. She bought them in Salem.”

Sokka jumped and spun around. Leaning against the brick wall of A-to-Z Party supply was the young man from last night. His face was uncovered, and his hair was loose around his face, but there was no mistaking him--not with that scar. Now Sokka could see that it covered half his cheek as well, which somehow made him more attractive instead of less. Sokka glared at him. A serial arsonist had no business looking that good. “You.”

“Me.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed. “Listen, I--I came to apologize. We usually go after abandoned buildings, and we--we should’ve stopped when you showed up. We didn’t mean any harm. At least, I didn’t.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Sokka was mentally calculating how long it would take him to call 911 from a nearby payphone and whether he would be able to hold the arsonist until the police arrived. Based on how easily he had knocked Sokka flat the previous night, probably not that long. His best chance was to keep him talking until he could flag down a passing policeman.

“It’s the truth.”

“Well, that warehouse is important to my family. Too important to be used for some rich kids to blow off steam.” He gestured to the boy’s expensive-looking leather jacket, his ripped jeans that were supposed to look punk but had clearly been bought that way.

“You’re right. I’m… I’m really sorry. Azula said she wanted a challenge. I should’ve stopped her.”

“Azula. That’s your girlfriend’s name?”

He laughed. It was a bright, sudden sound, like Sokka had startled the air out of his lungs. “Azula’s my sister. I don’t think I could ever have a girlfriend.”

_Focus,_ Sokka thought, but his mutinous brain kept playing the boy’s laugh on loop. He wanted to hear it forever--which was _ridiculous,_ because this boy was a _criminal_ and _the bane of Katara’s existence_ and probably straight anyway. Just because he didn’t have a girlfriend didn’t mean he was gay. 

Sokka tried to think of a topic of conversation, anything to keep him talking, which _he_ knew was in case a police officer passed but his _brain_ insisted was for another reason entirely. “I, uh, I have a sister too.”

“That’s… cool.” The boy shifted his weight. “Listen, I… I want to pay you back. Somehow.”

“Pay me back for what? You didn’t end up burning anything.”

“I don’t know, I just… feel bad. That me and my sister put you through all that.”

“Right.” He _should_ feel bad. Even if Sokka’s warehouse had been okay, he and his gang had destroyed countless other properties. But somehow, Sokka didn’t want to march him down to the police station. He looked over the boy--his blush-red scar, his tangles of black hair, his awkward posture that made him look six inches shorter than he actually was. He thought back to how this remarkably handsome human had said that he could _never_ have a girlfriend. And he made a choice. “You could buy me a coffee.”

  
The boy’s face--no, his entire _being--_ brightened as if Sokka had just given him a fantastic idea. “I’ll do you one better,” he said. “I’ll treat you to a cup of the best tea in Portland.”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, I’m not really, you know, a  _ tea  _ guy,” Sokka said. His head was spinning from the twisted path the boy had led him on. They were in an area of town he had never seen.

“Trust me, you will be. In about… five seconds.” The boy pushed open the door in front of them. A bell jangled cheerfully.

“Nephew!” A stout old man ran over from the table he was washing. He gave the boy’s shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “It’s been far too long since you’ve come to visit me. Here for some more of my sage advice?”

The boy smiled. “Hey, Uncle. Sorry it’s been a while. Life’s been--well, you know.”

“I’m sure your father keeps you working your tail off. I’m glad you’re able to come as much as you do.” Then the old man turned to Sokka. “But you haven’t introduced me to your friend!”

“This is… uh…” the boy turned to him sheepishly. Sokka suddenly realized that neither of them knew the other’s name.

“I’m Sokka.”

“Zuko.”

That was a nice name, Sokka thought. A little unusual, but then again, so was his own.

The old man shook his head and tut-tutted. “Buying him tea before you even know his name? You’re always rushing into things, nephew.” He held a hand out to Sokka. “My name is Iroh. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“A pleasure to meet you too.” Sokka shook his hand, which was wrinkled and warm. He marvelled at how different Zuko’s two relatives were--this kind, jovial uncle compared to his quite-frankly terrifying sister.

Iroh turned on his heel and walked briskly behind the counter. “Now! What kind of brew are we having today?”

Sokka blinked. “I don’t know. The only tea I’ve ever had came in little paper bags.” He glanced up at the massive chalkboard menu and took a step back. That was a  _ lot  _ of options.

Zuko laughed. “Okay, maybe you  _ shouldn’t  _ be the one to choose,” he said. He furrowed his brow for a moment as he perused the menu. Then his face brightened. “Have you ever had boba tea?”

Sokka shook his head. “What’s that?”

From the other side of the counter, Iroh groaned. “It’s the one that takes the longest to make,” he said. Then he sighed. “But anything for my favorite nephew.”

“I’m your only nephew.”

“Irrelevant.” Iroh bustled around in the cabinets for a moment before turning back around. “Jasmine, I assume?”

“Of course. Green tea is for children and black is for people who have had their taste buds burned off.”

Sokka grinned. The more he saw of this boy’s personality, the more he liked him. “I didn’t know you had such strong opinions about tea.”

“It’s just about the only thing I do have strong opinions about.”

Sokka gestured to a booth. “Should we sit down?”

They did.

Iroh turned on the radio and sang along while he worked. The song was in Japanese, but the tune was nice, and the old man’s singing, while badly off-key, was endearing. Sokka caught Zuko humming along to the chorus.

“Do you speak Japanese?” he asked. Zuko blushed, even though it didn’t seem to Sokka like a particularly embarrassing question.

“No. I… my family’s been in America for almost seventy years. My uncle’s the only one who’s even been to Japan, and he left when he was a baby.”

“Oh.”

“What about--what about you? Do you speak any other languages?”

Since arriving in Oregon, Sokka had realized how ethnically ambiguous he and Katara were. Several people had assumed they were Asian, and one lady had come up to them on the street and started talking in Spanish. Back home, no one had ever mistaken them for anything other than what they were. “I speak a little Iñupiaq,” he said. “Not enough to actually have a conversation.”

“Oh.” Zuko picked at the varnish on the table. Sokka could tell he was trying to be polite but was secretly wondering what the hell that was.

“I’m from Alaska,” he supplied in answer to the unasked question. “Iñupiaq is a native language. Only the old people in my town are really fluent in it.”

“That’s cool. That it’s so uncommon, I mean--it’s like you have a secret code.”

Sokka had never thought of it that way. “Yeah. I guess it is.”

Iroh came over and slid two mugs onto the table. “Enjoy!” Sokka examined the one in front of him.

“What exactly is this?” he asked, trying his best to be polite. He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but a glass mug of cold tea filled with what appeared to be rabbit droppings certainly wasn’t it. 

“I got the recipe from a Taiwanese restaurant in San Francisco. Iced tea poured over tapioca pearls--who would’ve thought? But apparently it’s all the rage in Asia.”

Zuko nudged him. “Try it. I know it looks like rabbit shit, but I promise it tastes at least a little better.”

Iroh clapped a hand to his chest in mock horror. “I can’t believe a member of my  _ own family  _ would say something like that.”

Sokka snorted. He raised the straw to his lips and took a sip. It was good tea, better than any he had made with a teabag, but--”I still don’t get the point of the black things.”

“You didn’t get any boba? Here.” Zuko leaned across the table and placed his hand over Sokka’s, causing Sokka’s heart rate to jump exponentially. He adjusted the straw and sat back down, and if Sokka’s eyes weren’t deceiving him, his right cheek was just barely tinged with pink. 

Sokka tried again and nearly choked on a chewy ball the size of a marble. He sputtered, coughing tea across the table. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s boba. You know, the entire point of boba tea.”

Sokka looked into the top of the mug. It had been unexpected, certainly, and a weird taste and texture, but it wasn’t exactly  _ bad.  _ He took another sip, and this time he was ready for the tapioca pearls. He chewed them thoughtfully. “Hey, this is actually pretty good.”

“I _ told _ you.”

Iroh smiled. “I’ll leave you boys to it.” He retreated behind the counter and switched the radio to a political channel. Two commentators were speaking about Bill Clinton’s presidential campaign, and their voices faded into the background noise of the shop.

Sokka put down his cup. “So how’d you get into the… arson business?” He winced. That was such an awkward way to phrase it.

Luckily, Zuko didn’t seem to notice. “It was all Azula’s idea. I caught her trying to sneak out of the house one night, and she told me she was going to burn shit down and if I knew what was good for me I’d stay the hell out of her way. I came along to make sure she didn’t go too far--she has a tendency to do that.”

“I can tell.”

“Right. ‘Cause she tried to burn down your warehouse.” He swirled his straw around. “Sorry about that.”

“Dude, you’ve already apologized three times. You’re good.”

Zuko smiled into his tea. Sokka couldn’t help but smile back. He traced the curve of Zuko’s lips with his eyes, trying to etch them into his memory.

Sokka picked his cup back up and took a sip, enjoying the unfamiliar squish of the boba pearls between his teeth. He swallowed. “I get why you would do that, though. For your sister. I mean, I’d never tell Katara this, but I’d do anything for her. I packed up my entire life and moved two thousand miles just to give her a chance of achieving her dreams.”

Zuko looked up at him. “What do you mean?”

“She’s always wanted to be a nurse. Our mom was one, and Katara… she idolized her. But a college education costs money that we don’t have. And back home, there aren’t many opportunities to earn money, not unless you want to work on an oil rig. Katara graduated high school last spring, and we both moved down here--I’m working at our dad’s warehouse, and she’s had a bunch of different jobs, mostly waitressing and stuff like that. She’s already been accepted into UAF’s nursing program, and hopefully by next fall we’ll have enough money to actually send her.”

“What about you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re doing all this for your sister. But what about you? Don’t you want anything?”

Sokka shrugged. “In high school I planned on being an engineer, but we don’t have enough money for both of us to get an education. When I moved down here, I made the decision that Katara was more important. I’ll do whatever it takes to get her where she needs to be.”

“That’s… really kind of you.”

He had never thought of it as  _ kind. _ Putting Katara’s needs before his own was natural. She was his little sister. “What about you? Are you in school?”

“Yeah. Multnomah.”

“What’s a Multnomah?”

Zuko chuckled. “I’m not surprised you’ve never heard of it. It’s a tiny school--my dad just chose it because it’s small and Christian and close to home. So I can still live with him, and he can keep an eye on me.”

Sokka blinked. Keep an eye on him? Maybe this boy was younger than he looked. He’d assumed this Multnomah place was a college, but Zuko hadn’t specified-- _ Fuck, what if he’s under 18?  _ “How old are you?”

“Twenty-one.”

Sokka let out a sigh of relief, then realized what that meant. “That’s fucked up.”

Zuko started. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re a grown adult and your dad’s making your decisions for you? Last week  _ my  _ dad told me not to stay out past midnight and I told him I’m twenty years old, I help pay rent, and I can do whatever the hell I want.”

“You can  _ say  _ that? To your dad? God, if I did that, my dad would--” he shuddered. “I don’t even know  _ what  _ he’d do.”

“Maybe your dad’s just a dick.”

In the background, the news anchors ceased their Clinton conversation, and the broadcast switched to a speech by Ozai Yamazaki.

“Ballot Measure 9 only states what every decent-minded American already knows: that homosexuality is abnormal, wrong, unnatural, and perverse. Homosexuals obey only their filthiest and basest urges. They are lower than animals, and we cannot allow them near our children.”

Iroh walked swiftly over to the radio and switched it off with a decisive  _ click. _

Yamazaki’s voice sounded strangely similar to Zuko’s sister, Sokka thought--not in the actual timbre of it, but in the smooth, eerily-calm delivery that made it sound like the speaker had the upper hand and knew it. He glanced across the table at Zuko, who was sitting stock-still, his face bloodless and set like a marble statue. The only motion was in his fingers, which clenched the glass mug so hard Sokka feared he would shatter it. He reached over and placed his hand over Zuko’s. “Don’t worry. That bastard’s not gonna get anywhere near the governor’s mansion. And there’s no way we’re letting Measure 9 pass.”

Zuko nodded and slackened a little. From behind the counter, Iroh glanced up at them but didn’t speak.

“Are you gay?” The words came out faster than Sokka intended. Zuko flinched and pulled his hand off the table. “Sorry--I mean--I wouldn’t normally ask like that, but--I can’t imagine a straight person reacting to that speech like that.” Maybe an admission of his own would help put Zuko at ease. “I’m bisexual. So is my dad, actually. My sister is straight, but she’s just as gung-ho about gay rights as the rest of us--she and her boyfriend go to all the No On 9 rallies with their  _ Straight, Not Narrow  _ buttons.”

“Narrow is the path that leads to salvation,” Zuko intoned.

Sokka stood hurriedly. Had he misjudged the situation? Having a crush on a straight guy he could handle, but a  _ homophobic  _ guy--

Zuko stood too and put out an arm to prevent Sokka from leaving. “No--I don’t believe that. It’s just… something my dad says.” He looked at the ground. “I am. Gay, I mean.” He let out a long exhale. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

“Oh.” Sokka sat back down. “Your dad tries to control your life  _ and  _ he’s homophobic? He sounds like a real piece of work.”

Zuko huffed. “Yeah. I guess you could say that.” He glanced toward the radio for a second, then back to Sokka. “Thanks. For being so cool with it. I mean, I sort of expected that--since you’re bisexual and all--but I was still scared. You’re the first person I’ve ever come out to.”

“Well, I’m honored.” Sokka took another sip of the tea. It was watery with long-melted ice. “You know, you really should consider coming out to some other people. The No On 9 people say it’s the most important political action you can take--showing people that gays and lesbians are their relatives and friends. I’m not saying you should tell your dad, but… what about your sister?”

He shook his head. “Azula would go straight to Dad.”

“Really? He sounds awful. If I were her, I’d hate him as much as you do.”

“You don’t understand. Growing up, he always pitted us against each other--who could get better grades, a better score at the piano recital--even games of soccer in the backyard were carefully refereed. And Azula always won.  _ Always.  _ She’s one of those whiz kids, good at everything without ever needing to try. For as long as I can remember, her position has been cemented as the golden child: she could do no wrong, and I… well, I could do no right.”

Sokka sat back for a moment, taking it in. Then he said, for the second time that day, “That’s fucked up.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Zuko didn’t seem to want to say any more on that topic, so Sokka switched to one he’d been wondering about for months. “Where’d the name come from?  _ The Agni Kais?” _

“Azula came up with it. It’s the Sanskrit word for  _ fire  _ and the Japanese word for  _ meeting.  _ I’m not really sure why she chose those two words in particular. She got it into her head, after we burned a few vacant buildings, that people should know who we are. So she made me design a logo and paint it everywhere we went.”

“And you guys founded the gang? That’s pretty impressive, even if it is illegal.”

“We  _ are  _ the gang. I mean, Azula’s brought along some friends of hers once or twice, but usually, it’s just us.”

Sokka’s jaw dropped. “You two set  _ all  _ those fires?”

Zuko shrugged. “We’re efficient. It runs in the family, I guess.” He glanced down at his watch. “Speaking of family, I was supposed to be at a meeting with my dad twenty minutes ago.” He stood up and ran out the door, then ran back and opened it again. “It was good to meet you!”

And he was gone.

“Stiffed me on the check. As usual,” Iroh grumbled as he retrieved the empty mugs. Sokka fumbled for his wallet, but the old man waved him away. “Oh, there’s no need. I’m glad Zuko’s finally made a friend. And I wouldn’t want to take money away from your sister’s college fund.”

“You listened to our conversation?”

“Well, I didn’t mean to, but there isn’t exactly much else to listen to.” He gestured around to the empty booths.

“So you know--” Sokka cut himself off. Saying the words  _ Zuko’s gay,  _ even to someone who most likely already knew, seemed like a breach of trust.

Iroh got his drift, though, and nodded. “I’ve suspected for years. I knew his father wouldn’t be happy, so I always made sure to be as welcoming as possible, so he’d know he had somewhere to go if things went sour. I’ve been waiting for him to tell me on his own time.”

“That’s… very kind of you.”

“It’s the least I could do. Poor boy has so much to deal with, with his father and his sister and his mother…”

“His mother? He didn’t mention his mother.”

“Perhaps it would be better for him to explain that.”

Sokka nodded. Like Iroh, he would have to wait for Zuko to tell him on his own time. 

“You know, I was very worried about Zuko. He’s never had any friends his own age. I can’t tell you how relieved I was when he walked in with you. He’s not exactly a people person, and he often says things he doesn’t mean, but… he has a good heart.”

“I can tell.” Sokka laughed. “When he said that thing about how  _ Narrow is the path that leads to salvation,  _ I was so scared--it’s such a typical OCA slogan, I thought I’d accidentally fallen for a homophobe and this would only lead to more heartbreak.”

“More?”

“I’ve been burned before.”

“So has Zuko.”

Sokka thought back to the angry red scar, splashed like acid across his cheek.

“And it’s always by the same person, too,” Iroh continued. “But he keeps going back to him. No matter how many times he gets hurt. And he always comes to my shop afterwards, and lashes out at me, and I have to stop myself from responding, because I know it’s not me he’s angry at.”

_ Him.  _ The person who Zuko kept returning to, who kept hurting him, was male. “Does he… does he have a boyfriend?”

“Oh, no. Nothing like that.” Iroh placed a hand on his arm. “In fact, I think you’re just the kind of person he needs. Someone who can break the cycle and let Zuko be happy.” He sighed. “That’s all I want. For him to be happy.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A note about ages in this: I really didn't think through the logistics beforehand lol. Looking through it now, I realize that if Katara graduated high school last spring, and it's summer now, that would make her 19, and therefore Sokka is 20 and Zuko is 21. I also decided to make Aang and Toph the same age as Katara, just because it would be kind of icky to have her dating a 17-year-old. I'll be editing the last chapter to reflect that--sorry for the confusion!

Sokka swung through the door of the Taqqiq family warehouse. His father turned around. “You were here all night. Go home and get some sleep.”

Sokka shook his head. “I’m not tired. Just had tea.”

Hakoda looked suspicious. “Tea? You never drink tea.”

“I didn’t choose the place.”

His father shoved his pencil behind his ear. “Wait a second, did you go on a _date?”_

“No--kind of--I don’t know,” Sokka sputtered. “There was a boy, and he took me to his uncle’s tea shop, but I don’t know if it was just a _friends_ sort of thing, you know?”

“Well, do you like him?”

“Yes--kind of--I don’t know.” Sokka buried his face in his hands. “I mean, he’s really cute, and I liked being with him, but I feel like… I feel like I shouldn’t.” He touched his wallet. He didn’t have to open it to see the photo inside--he had stared at it every day for four years, the smiling girl with bright-white hair and eyes like the moon. They had both bleached their hair, the day that photo was taken. Sokka wasn't ashamed to admit she pulled it off better--but, of course, his had grown back as dark as ever. Hers hadn't. Hakoda put a hand on his shoulder.

“She wants you to be happy,” he said. Not _wanted_ or _would want,_ Sokka noticed. _Wants._ “It’s not wrong to move on. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten her.”

“I suppose you’d know about that.”

“I would.” Hakoda rubbed his son’s shoulder, then folded him into a hug. Now that Sokka had someone else to lean on, the full weight of his tiredness crashed down on him, and Hakoda staggered under both of their weights. “You’re in no condition to work _or_ to drive home,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll call Katara to come pick you up.”

* * *

  
  


Sokka sat up blearily. The sunlight was streaming in through his bedroom window, which only happened in the late afternoon. “Fuck, how long did I sleep?” He fumbled for his watch. 4:17. He sighed in relief--he kept forgetting he was in Oregon. In the summer back home, that level of light meant it was 7 or 8.

He rolled out of bed and went into the living room, where he grabbed his day planner. He had long since learned that it was impossible to keep to a schedule unless he had it meticulously planned. He flipped to today. _5:30 pm: No On 9 meeting._ He read the address and started. “Hey, Katara?” he called.

“What?” she replied from the kitchen.

“Why is the richest family in Oregon hosting a No On 9 meeting in their house?”

She appeared in the doorway, a plate and towel in her hand. “They’re not. Their daughter is.”

“Wha--”

“Aang convinced her to join the cause. I was just as surprised as you are, honestly.”

“How does Aang even know the Beifongs’ daughter?”

“Apparently he met her at an underground wrestling match? I don’t really know the details.”

Sokka shook his head. “Your boyfriend gets into some weird situations.”

“You’re talking to the girl who met him by busting him out of a grocery store’s meat freezer.”

He checked his watch. “How far away is the Beifongs’ house? We should probably leave soon, just in case we get lost along the way.”

Katara nodded and grabbed the car keys. “I’ll drive.”

Sokka was halfway out the door after her when he remembered his notebook. He ran back inside, found it after a few minutes of frantic searching (it was in the fridge, why the hell had he put it in the _fridge?),_ and they were off.

* * *

Aang met them at the gate to the Beifong house. Even the gate was intimidating, an ornate wrought-iron situation set in a high stone wall. There was a button nearby, and Katara was about to push it, but Aang waved her away.

“Toph’s parents don’t exactly know we’re here.”

Sokka rolled his eyes. What the hell had his sister’s boyfriend gotten them into this time?

Aang led them to a small side gate, where they parked their cars in the woods (“If a tree branch falls and crushes the car, you’re paying for it,” Sokka said), and then walked through the gate and up a gravel driveway. The side gate was evidently to bring landscaping supplies into the lush garden, which was meticulously groomed and filled with exotic plants. Sokka was torn between admiring them and wondering who the hell had the money to buy all that.

“We’re meeting in the guest house,” Aang said as they walked. “The other members of the team are already there. You’ll love them, guys. And they both have actual activism experience, which’ll be a real help.”

Sokka gestured to the garden and enormous house. “What kind of activism could a girl who lives _here_ possibly get up to?¨

“Toph singlehandedly bullied the Portland State administration into providing Braille textbooks. Like I said, you’re gonna love her.”

“Braille, huh? So she’s--”

“Blind? Yeah.” Sokka jumped. A short girl about Katara’s age was leaning against the doorway to the guest house. Her black hair was piled haphazardly onto her head like a bird’s nest. In the fading light, he could see that her eyes were clouded over with gray. “What of it?”

“Uh--nothing.”

“Right.” The girl turned and walked inside, then impatiently gestured for them to follow.

The living room of the guest house was minimalist and bare, all the furniture smooth and white and sleek. Sokka hated that style--why did rich people show off their wealth by _not_ decorating their homes? The girl who had shown them in (if you could call it that) walked over to the white leather couch and sprawled across it, leaving no room for anyone else to sit. Another girl was seated on the tile floor, idly bouncing a rubber ball. Her brown bob rippled with the rhythmic movement. When she looked up at Sokka, he saw that she was wearing the sharpest goddamn eyeliner he had ever seen.

Aang gestured to the two girls. “You’ve already met Toph, university-bullying extraordinaire. This is Suki Kim--she led a campaign to make the state enforce Title IX in girls’ athletics.”

_“While_ leading my basketball team to victory. Don’t sell me short,” added Suki from the floor.

“While leading her basketball team to victory,” Aang conceded. 

Katara clapped her hands together. “Let the meeting come to order,” she said.

_“Let the meeting come to order,”_ Toph mocked with a sneer. “There are five of us. You can just start talking without any fancy rules.”

“O--okay.” Katara stepped back. Sokka knew Toph couldn’t see it, but he glared at her. Only he was allowed to talk to his sister like that. He marched to the front of the room and slammed his notebook open.

“Welcome to the fifth meeting of Cool People Against Measure 9,” he said. He had decided on that name at their very first meeting, over Aang’s and Katara’s protests (despite the fact that they were the only other members at the time). “We have a lot to discuss. First, the Archdiocese of Portland has come out against Measure 9.” _Pause for cheers_ was written in his notebook, but nobody cheered, so he shrugged and pressed on. “I talked to Father Piandao over at St. Mary’s, and he wants us to come in and talk during Mass on Sunday.”

Katara nodded. “Now, there are a lot of undecided Catholic voters out there, so we need to give them a good first impression of our movement. If you’ve got something you want to say, run it by Sokka and me. Be on your best behavior, dress presentably, all that.”

“Hang on, a Catholic Mass?” Toph slung her arm over the back of the sofa. “I’ve only been to one of those, and all I remember is that I had to sit and listen to some boring guy talk for ages. And what’s _best behavior_ supposed to mean? I joined this group so I could _break_ rules, not have to follow a whole bunch more.”

“Well, some of us aren’t doing this for _fun!”_ Katara snapped. Sokka took a step back. His sister was scary when she was angry, and he had rarely seen her angrier than this. “I know exactly who you are, Toph Beifong. A spoiled rich kid who thinks going to wrestling matches and joining political groups makes you cool. Well, it’s not _cool._ It’s a hell of a lot of work and it’s not always fun, but we do it because we _have to._ Some of us don’t have Mommy and Daddy’s money to fall back on when we get fired because our boss saw our brother making out with a boy outside a gay bar on Stark Street.”

Sokka gasped. She hadn’t told him why she got fired from her last job. “Katara--”

She cut him off. “And while we’re at it, I bet that so-called _activism_ you did at PSU wasn’t all that impressive after all. I bet your family are big donors, and all they had to do to get you what you wanted was threaten to cut their funding. I bet that’s how you got in in the first place. You never had to move a thousand miles and work two jobs just to--”

Toph sat bolt upright. “Hide.”

“What?”

“You guys need to _hide!”_ She stood and shoved Sokka toward the bedroom. The others followed them, bewildered. Once they were all inside, she slammed the door and whipped around. A few moments later, the guest house’s front door creaked open.

“Oh, there you are, Toph! We were worried sick about you!” said a high, querulous woman’s voice.

“Where on earth have you been? You shouldn’t run off like that,” said a man’s voice, much more stern.

“I’ve been here. Just… getting some alone time.” Toph’s voice was soft and timid, nothing like the way she had been talking before. _Well, if nothing else, she can at least have a good career as a voice actor,_ he thought.

The woman spoke again. “Doesn’t the house have enough space for you? You have the whole east wing to yourself.”

“There are always people following me around in the house. I can tell when someone’s watching me, even if I can’t see them.”

“You mean your aides? But you _need_ them, Toph, they keep you safe!”

“I got out here just fine.”

“But you could’ve _died_ along the way! I mean, you could’ve fallen into a thornbush, or tripped over a sprinkler, or--or drowned in the _pool--”_

“Poppy, please.” The man again. “Toph, your mother and I are just worried about you. We want you to be safe, you know that, right?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Now, come back to the house. Dinner’s soon--roast duck. You won’t want to miss it.”

“Can I just stay out here for a few more minutes? I promise I’ll come back soon.”

A pause. Then, her mother. “All right, dear. But call us from the extension when you’re ready to come back, and we’ll send somebody to fetch you.”

“All right.”

The door closed. Two sets of footsteps crunched away on the gravel path. Toph reopened the bedroom door. “So. You’ve met my parents.”

Sokka nodded. “They seem… interesting.”

“Interesting is one word for it. From the day I was born, they haven’t let me have a moment to myself. I mean, what other parents _hire_ people to follow their kids around?”

“Why don’t you get a guide dog?” asked Aang. “I bet that would be a lot cheaper.”

“I’m allergic to dogs. My parents had me tested when I was two, so that nothing could ever hurt their precious baby. Dogs, almonds, pollen, dust, bees… they made me memorize the whole list.” She turned to face Katara. “Oh, and for the record, I didn’t even _tell_ my parents about the Braille campaign. I wanted to do something for myself for once.”

Katara nodded wordlessly.

“Now, you guys have to get out of here. I don’t know how long it’ll be before they come back.” Toph sat back down on the couch as they filed out the door. “And… I’m sorry the meeting didn’t work out.”

“It’s all right,” Sokka said. “We can just go back to having them in our living room. I’m sorry you didn’t get to break any rules.” Then he shut the door behind him, and they walked out into the night.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sibling heart-to-heart <3

“Are you _sure_ we aren’t lost?” asked Katara from the passenger seat. 

Sokka banged on the steering wheel, accidentally honking the horn in the process. Not that there was anyone around to hear. “Yes, I’m sure! The roads just look different at night. And I can’t see the map in the dark.” 

“Just turn on the light--” Katara reached for the ceiling, then pulled her hand down.

“There is no light, remember? This old piece of junk was the only car we could afford.”

“Well, what do you normally do when you’re driving at night?”

“Pull over and read the map under a streetlight.”

“Well, do that now!”

“There _are_ no streetlights, Katara!” Sokka slammed his hand against the steering wheel again. The horn’s blast (this time intentional) startled a deer that had been grazing by the side of the road. Why the _hell_ did the Beifongs have to live in the middle of goddamn nowhere?

He pulled over with a jerk of the steering wheel and got out. He had hoped the moonlight would help him see the map, but it was a waning crescent, and little light came through the trees. He looked up at the moon for a little longer than necessary. Katara must have noticed, because she came over and draped her arm over his shoulder.

“Thinking about Yue?” she asked, softly. There was no acknowledgment of their argument, and certainly no apology from either of them. They moved on. That was their way.

He bit his lip and nodded. “The day she left, she said…” 

A lump rose in his throat. Katara continued the story for him; he had told it to her enough times that she knew it front to back.

“Whenever you miss me, look at the moon. Because if you’re missing me, then I’m missing you, too. But we’re both under the same moon--and if we’re looking at it together, then we aren’t really apart, are we?”

She’d been sixteen when she said that, and so, _so_ brave. Sokka could picture her, in the hospital room in Anchorage, her knees pulled to her chest, looking out the window as a monitor beeped at her side. He had visited her there, twice, and each time he came loaded with gifts from the people of their village: bright blankets to hang on the walls to make the room less bare, knitted scarves and fur hats to keep her warm, soapstone amulets for good luck. They hadn’t helped. 

He still looked at the moon, though. And he wondered, sometimes, if it was possible that she was looking back.

Katara hoisted herself up onto the hood of the car. She patted the metal next to her. “C’mon. It looks like we’re stuck here until the sun comes up, and it’s gonna be a long night.”

* * *

  
  


Sokka wasn’t sure how much later it was when he opened his eyes again. He sat up and rubbed his neck, sore from sleeping on the hard metal. It was still nearly pitch-dark. Katara was sitting next to him, one hand methodically rubbing the necklace charm at her throat. She was staring at the moon, too, but he knew she wasn’t thinking about Yue.

“Lots of remembering to be done tonight, huh?” he said.

She nodded. 

He leaned against her. He wasn’t cold--even in the middle of the night it was warmer than it ever got back home--but the warmth of her shoulder against his felt nice. She released her grip on her necklace. “Do you want to know something bad?”

“What?”

“Sometimes I’m… _mad_ at Mom. For dying.”

Sokka didn’t respond. He didn’t know how to.

“Of course, logically I know she didn’t have any control over it, but… it was so hard on me, Sokka. I mean, it was hard on all of us, but you had Dad, and Dad had Gran-Gran, and I just… I felt so alone. Suddenly I had all this work to do--I mean, I love Dad to bits, but the man won’t do any laundry until he’s worn all his underwear twice--and there was nobody to help me, nobody to teach me, and I was eight, Sokka, I was _eight.”_

“I know.” _And I was only twelve when Dad--_

He didn’t allow himself to finish the thought, let alone say it aloud.

“That’s… bad, right? It wasn’t her fault, I can’t be mad at her for something that wasn’t her fault--”

“You can be whatever you want, Katara.”

“You think?”

He nodded. “You remember the five stages of grief? That hokey counselor Dad took us to talked about them.”

“Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance,” she rattled off. He smiled: after all this time, they both still remembered.

“Ever since she died, you’ve forced yourself to press on, taken care of everyone, taken on all that responsibility at such a young age. I think, all these years, you’ve been stuck in denial. Even though you talk about it a lot on the surface level, you never _think_ about it for too long, because you’re always too busy with the next problem. And, just now, you’re finally letting yourself move on to the next stage.”

She gave a short laugh that came out half-sob. “You’re so wise, Sokka.”

“I can be when I need to be.”

Katara rubbed her eye with the back of her hand. “But I don’t _want_ to move on. I feel like it’s… wrong.”

“Dad and I had this exact conversation this morning at the warehouse, you know. I think what he said applies to you, too. It doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten her, or that she doesn’t matter to you anymore. It means you’re letting yourself be happy--and she wants you to be happy.”

“He said this about Mom?”

Sokka shook his head. “Yue.”

“Ah.” Katara leaned back on her hands, then sat up suddenly. “Wait, why were you guys talking about that this morning? And where did you go between when I left for work and when I picked you up from the warehouse?” She furrowed her brows--her _thinking face,_ Sokka had called it since he was six. Then she turned to face him straight on. “Sokka, did you go on a _date?”_

He frowned. “I’m offended at how surprised you sound. Is it so shocking that a boy wanted to buy me a cup of tea?”

“Ooh, a _boy?”_ Katara pulled her knees up to her chest. Taste in boys was one of the few things they had in common--that and a passion for shopping. “Tell me all about him.”

“His name’s Zuko. First of all, he’s gay, so there won’t be any of that _I-think-he’s-flirting-but-maybe-he’s-straight_ nonsense. Second, he’s really cute--like, _really_ cute--and he’s quite possibly the only person I’ve ever met who’s just as awkward as me.”

“That’s borderline impossible. Did you ask him to _do an activity_ with you?”

“Shut up!”

Katara laughed. “You know you’re never living that down.” Then she shifted her weight. “Anyway, tell me more. I’m looking for age, height, weight, address, social security number…”

“What, are you planning on stalking him?”

_“You_ stalked _my_ first boyfriend--”

“And caught him planning an act of domestic terrorism, Katara, are you still mad about that?”

She smacked him with the sleeve of her sweater. Sokka smiled--if she’s really been mad, her hand would've been in it and it would’ve hurt a good deal more. “Um. He’s twenty-one, pretty tall, clearly works out, goes to a little Christian college. He talked a lot about his family: his dad is a piece of shit and his sister is _terrifying,_ but he’s got a nice uncle who owns a tea shop…” He trailed off. “And I think that’s all I know.”

“Seriously? You’d kill me if I were dating a guy who I knew that little about.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do I mean? You don’t know where he’s from, what he’s majoring in, how to verify _any_ of what you told me--Sokka, do you even know his last name?”

Sokka shrugged. “How bad can a last name be?”

“You can’t date someone without knowing his last name!” She threw up her arms. “It’s hopeless. You’re head-over-heels for this mystery man already.”

“Am _not!”_ Above, the clouds that had been gathering cleared for a moment and the light of the moon shone down. He looked up at it. “But, like you said… I feel bad about it. Like I’m… betraying Yue by falling for someone else.”

Katara touched his shoulder. “She was your moon. That’s what you said when she first got diagnosed. She wasn’t the most important thing in your life, but without her, your world would go spinning out of orbit.”

He nodded. He had told that to her on a summer night like tonight, when they both sat curled on his bed, neither of them wanting it to end. His eyes had been rimmed with red, and she held him silently against her chest until they both fell asleep.

“Well, after the moon goes down, it’s dark for a little bit. But then the sun comes up, and the sky is brighter than it ever was. And the world doesn’t forget about the moon, because her influence is still there, she still controls the tides and currents and everything, and just because the sun is up doesn’t mean the world doesn’t _miss_ the moon--” she broke off and laughed. “I think the metaphor got away from me. My point is, just like you were telling me earlier, there’s nothing wrong with finding new light.”

“New light.” Sokka sat up suddenly. He slid off the hood of the car, ran over to the door, and grabbed the map off his seat. “Katara, the _headlights.”_

She smacked herself in the face. “I can’t believe it took us this long to think of the headlights.”

“It took _me_ this long. _You_ didn’t think of shit.” He tossed her the keys, and she jumped into the driver’s seat and turned on the engine. The headlights clicked on. Sokka crouched in front of the car and spread out the map, now clearly visible. “Well, that was a waste of a few hours.”

Katara leaned her head out the car’s open window. “No, it wasn’t.”

“No,” Sokka agreed after a moment. “It wasn’t.”

It only took him a few minutes to plot out and memorize a route home. Then he climbed into the passenger seat, and they left the moonlit clearing behind.

They moved on. That was their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so fun to write, but I probably didn't get the sibling dynamic right lol. My only sibling is a much-older brother, so I wasn't sure how to accurately portray siblings who are closer in age.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the complete lack of zuko in the last two chapters haha, i hope this one makes up for it. thank you everyone for the comments and kudos, they really make my day!

The morning light streamed in through the window. Sokka rolled over with a groan. It had been a week since he’d stayed up all night guarding the warehouse, and his sleep schedule was still all kinds of fucked up. Then he remembered what day it was and sat up.

He ran his fingers through his hair as he walked into the living room. It was getting too long, and he knew he should buy a brush one of these days, but why bother when he could just borrow Katara’s? He knew exactly how this morning was going to go: he would steal her hairbrush, she would slap him and steal it back, they would both get changed and then go off and have a perfect day. He stopped in his tracks, though, when he saw his sister fully dressed and halfway out the door. 

“Where are you going? I thought you had the morning off from the diner.”

“I do. I’m going to the fire station.”

“Well, can you not? I want to show you something.”

She shook her head. “Sorry. I’ve got to be at the fire station until eleven.”

“You’re a volunteer. Since when do you have hours?”

“Since now.” She walked outside and shut the door behind her.

Sokka flopped down onto the couch. “Rude,” he said, to no one in particular. He had spent a week convincing his dad to give him this morning off, precisely because he knew Katara wouldn’t be working either. He had wanted to go to Iroh’s shop and buy her a cup of boba tea--if only to see the look on her face when she got her first mouthful of tapioca pearls. She would’ve been just as shocked as he was, he knew. Sokka sighed, thinking of the sticky linoleum tables, the handwritten chalkboard menu, the sweet old man and his awkward yet charming nephew. The memory of Zuko, smiling into his tea, made him sit up. There was no law against going to a tea shop alone, was there?

* * *

  
  


Finding the place proved to be more difficult than he had thought. He remembered the general neighborhood, but Zuko had led him there with the speed of someone who knew the way by heart, and he hadn’t had time to get a good look at his surroundings. He hadn’t even seen the store’s name. He scanned the many cafes on the block, hoping would have an obvious name like  _ Iroh’s,  _ but no such luck. Their names were all too generic, like  _ West Side Cafe,  _ or too specific, like  _ Victoria’s Coffee and Sweet Treats.  _ Then his gaze lighted on one faded, nondescript green awning.  _ The Jasmine Dragon:  _ that had to be it.

The bell above his head jangled as he opened the door. Yep, this was it: the mingled scent of a million exotic teas, the Japanese love song playing faintly in the background, the gray-bearded man in a green apron wiping down a table. Sokka started when he saw Zuko at the back of the shop. He was standing at the top of a rickety wooden ladder, drawing a steaming teacup on the bottom corner of the menu. His left hand was pressed against the ceiling to steady himself, and there was an expression of pure concentration on his face.

Iroh looked up when Sokka entered. His face broke into a smile. “Zuko! Your friend’s here!”

“Who--oh!” Zuko spun around, disrupting the ladder’s delicate balance, and it started to tip backwards. Sokka ran forward to grab it, but before he could, the ladder toppled over and Zuko went flying. He landed directly on top of Sokka, sending him sprawling on his back. Sokka was dimly aware of a bruise already forming on his tailbone, but the far more pressing issue was the feeling of Zuko’s chest on top of his and his breath on his cheek. He only hoped Zuko couldn’t feel his heart pounding.

“Goodness, that was quite a fall.” Iroh walked over and helped Zuko to his feet, then stuck out a hand to Sokka. Sokka shook his head and stood up on his own. 

“I’m all right.”

“You sure?” asked Zuko. “I hit you pretty square-on.”

“I can take a few hits. I’ve got a pretty hard head.”

“Okay, then.”

Sokka pointed up at the chalkboard above their heads. “Did you draw all that?” The menu’s writing was in gorgeous cursive, and little illustrations were sprinkled here and there: a sprig of white flowers by the list of Asian teas, an intricate Japanese dragon above the daily specials. The teacup in the corner was only half-colored in, but even so Sokka could tell how much skill had gone into it.

Zuko shrugged. “Yeah.”

“I’m too old to get up on that ladder anymore,” Iroh cut in. “Zuko helps me out like the good nephew he is.”

Sokka was still staring up at the menu. “It’s… gorgeous.”

Zuko kicked a fragment of chalk under the table. “It’s not, really. I’m not much good at drawing, I just like it. I’m lucky Uncle lets me doodle on his menu.”

“Oh, don’t sell yourself short. My regulars love seeing your drawings. You’re good for business.” Iroh grabbed a broom and started sweeping up the chalk that had shattered when his nephew fell. “That being said, I think you’ve done enough damage to my shop for today. You two should go.”

Zuko’s face fell. “Go?”

“Don’t look so sad. It isn’t that I don’t like your company, I just think you boys should be doing something better with such a beautiful day than moping around an empty tea shop with a lonely old man.” He waved them towards the door. “Go to the park or something. Shoo!”

Zuko laughed as his uncle slammed the door behind them. “Well, I guess we’d better get going, then.”

“Yeah, I guess we’d better.” Sokka rubbed his tailbone. That was going to hurt for a while.

“Are you all right?” Zuko asked, his eyes full of worry. “I’m so sorry I hit you--I just--lost my balance--”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Sokka laughed. He was half-afraid Zuko’s near-constant state of panic would rub off on him. “Like I said, I’ve got a pretty hard head. It takes a lot to keep me down.” He started walking down the street in what he hoped was the direction of the park. Zuko followed him, keeping to his left. Sokka gave him a sidelong glance--his scar was barely visible from this angle. He wanted to reach over and brush his hand along Zuko’s good cheek, from that sparkling amber eye to the frustratingly-perfect jawline.

He didn’t. Instead, because it was the only thing he knew how to do, he launched into an amusing childhood anecdote.

“You know, one time, I got the brilliant idea to paint the roof of the house, so it wouldn’t rust. Then, while I was up there, the paint can started sliding off the roof. Well, it was my only can, so I crawled after it, and before I knew it, I was sliding too.” He laughed again, remembering the way he had yelled out as he grabbed for purchase on the corrugated metal roof. At the time, it had been terrifying, but now it was just funny. “I landed flat on my ass--and believe me, the ground in Alaska isn’t cushy, even in the spring. I sat there for a few minutes, but there was no one home and we didn’t exactly live in a metropolitan area, so eventually I had to haul myself up and go inside. I called up a family friend, and she drove me to the medical clinic in Wainwright, three hours away over bumpy Alaskan roads. Man, was that drive hell.” Sokka looked over, expecting Zuko to find this as funny as he did, but he just looked concerned.

“When did you say this happened?”

“Oh, I was fourteen. Like I said, not the smartest move, to go painting a sloped roof with no one around. Not something I’d do now, that’s for sure.”

Zuko ran his left hand through his hair. “That’s fucked up.”

Sokka nudged him. “Hey, that’s my line.” Then he frowned. “And what about it is fucked up?”

“You fell off the  _ roof  _ and had to pick yourself up! When you were  _ fourteen!”  _ Zuko shook his head. “I was… pretty badly injured around that age, too, but my uncle was there, and he immediately called an ambulance.”

“There aren’t car ambulances in Alaska. I mean, maybe there are some in Anchorage or something, but in rural areas, if there’s a real emergency they use helicopters. And I got to ride in one, twice. It turned out I’d broken my hip and they’d have to operate, which they couldn’t do in the Wainwright clinic, so they airlifted me to the hospital in Barrow. Then, once I recovered, they flew me all the way back home--and that time I was actually conscious enough to enjoy it. I mean, come on, what teenage boy doesn’t want to ride in a helicopter?”

Zuko was still shaking his head. “That’s fucked up,” he repeated. Sokka shrugged.

“If you say so.” He had been trying to put Zuko at ease, but apparently he had only succeeded in making him more worried. As they rounded the corner, a patch of grass and trees came into view. Sokka sighed in relief. “Hey, there’s the park! I knew I picked the right direction.”

It was a beautiful sunny day, so the park was packed. Families picnicked on the grass, couples sat on benches, food vendors hawked their wares from sidewalk carts. Sokka noticed Zuko looking longingly at a bike rental kiosk.

“You want to rent one?”

Zuko visibly brightened. “I’d love to.”

Sokka had learned to ride a bike from his dad. It was the first of many things he had taught him, and the memory he had held closest during the years they had been apart. He hadn’t taken his bike with him to Oregon, so he was a bit out of practice, but his legs found the motion again easily and he was soon rocketing down the sidewalk. “Sorry, ma’am!” he yelled over his shoulder after nearly colliding with an elderly lady. Suddenly he realized Zuko wasn’t by his side. He turned around to see him still standing by the kiosk, staring down at his hands on the handlebars. Sokka hopped off his bike and walked back over. “You good?”

Zuko didn’t move. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do this. I haven’t… I haven’t ridden a bike since I was thirteen. I’m not sure if I still can.”

“Really? Well, you know what they say about riding a bike. Once you learn, you never forget.”

“I guess.” He still didn’t sit down.

Sokka looked around at the people thronging the sidewalk. Then he grabbed Zuko’s elbow and pulled him towards an empty spot on the lawn. “Here. It might be a little harder to balance on the grass, but it’s a lot less crowded. Believe me, a little practice and you’ll get the hang of it in no time.”

Zuko smiled. “Thanks.” Sokka felt a weight inside of him lift. He had been worried he would never be able to make him smile.

“Any time.”

* * *

  
  


It took longer than Sokka had expected for Zuko to pick up biking again, but he stood beside him the whole time and clapped when he managed to make it a whole five yards without falling over.

“Sorry,” Zuko said after dismounting clumsily. “You’re probably really bored with babysitting me. I should let you go off and have fun.”

“Are you kidding me?” Sokka shook his head. “First of all, you’ve  _ got  _ to stop apologizing. And second, I  _ am  _ having fun.”

“Really?”

“If I wanted to go to the park alone, I would’ve gone to the park alone. I’m here with you because I  _ want  _ to be.”

“Oh.” Zuko looked at the ground and blushed. “Thanks.” Then he climbed back on. “Sorry, I just want to try one more time--”

“I told you to stop apologizing!”

Zuko laughed, lost his concentration, and tipped over, bike and all. Sokka laughed too and flopped down beside him. He pulled up a handful of grass and sprinkled it on Zuko’s face. Zuko sneezed, sending them both into stitches. 

“Why is this so funny?” asked Zuko as soon as he regained his breath.

“I don’t know,” Sokka said. “Sometimes it’s best not to ask why. Just lean back and enjoy it.”

“We’re lying down. I don’t think we  _ can  _ lean any further back.”

“Oh, come on, you know what I mean.” Sokka lightly swatted Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko flinched. “Sorry--did I hurt you? I didn’t mean to--”

“No. I’m okay.” Zuko sat up and scooted away.

“No offense, but you don’t look okay.” Sokka sat up too. “Is something wrong?”

Zuko shook his head. “No--I--” He sighed and touched a hand to his scar. “The last time I rode a bike, I could see out of both my eyes. That’s why I’m so bad at it now.”

Sokka didn’t understand the rapid change of topic, but he took it in stride. “Okay. That just makes it even more impressive that you’re picking it up so quickly.”

“But I’m not. I just fell over a million times, weren’t you even watching?”

“I was. And you know what I saw? I saw you get up, every single time you fell, and try again.” Sokka stood up and extended a hand to Zuko. “I think it’s the grass’s fault you’re having so much trouble. Let’s go down to the esplanade. It’s paved, and there are fewer people to bump into.”

Zuko looked up at him for a moment, then took it. “Sure.”

* * *

  
  


Zuko progressed much faster on the esplanade, especially once Sokka decided to even the playing field by shutting one eye himself. The first time he tried, he nearly fell into the river, which made Zuko laugh a bit harder than he thought was charitable, but also made him visibly calmer. Sokka clapped a hand over one eye and gripped the handlebar of his bike with the other. “Race you to the bridge!” he yelled, kicking off.

“No fair, you’ve already started--” Zuko stammered, but then he hopped on his own bike and followed.

They both reached the bridge at about the same time--Sokka made sure of that--and collapsed in the shade, panting. Zuko grinned at him. “I think I almost beat you.”

“Oh, don’t be modest. You definitely beat me.”

“You let me win.”

“I did  _ not!” _

Zuko threw his hands in the air. “Okay, okay. I beat you.” He dismounted from his bike. “By the way… thanks for being so nice to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was taking forever to do something most people learn when they’re six. Something you’re really good at. But you were so… patient. It’s like you actually cared about whether or not I succeeded.”

“Of course I care.” Sokka got off his bike too, and they started walking back towards where they started at a leisurely pace. “I know how important it is to have people support you. When I was little, I had a really hard time in school--couldn’t focus, couldn’t stay in my seat, couldn’t finish my homework...”

“That sounds like ADHD.”

Sokka nodded. “My mom was pretty sure that was it, but I’d have to go to a doctor to get properly diagnosed, and why drive all the way to Wainwright to learn something you already know? So she invited my teacher over for lunch, which is something you can do if your village has a population of 100, and they came up with a whole system to keep me on track. Within a month I was acing every class.”

“Wow. That’s… wow.” Zuko shook his head. “That’s kind of hard to believe.”

“If I ever meet your dad, I’m gonna punch him in the nuts.”

Zuko stopped in his tracks. “Okay, that came out of nowhere.”

“Sorry. It’s just--when we first met, you didn’t have much nice stuff to say about him. And now you’re saying you can’t even  _ imagine  _ a parent being actually supportive.” He shrugged. “It’s not that hard to connect the dots.”

“Yeah. I guess it isn’t.” Zuko started walking again, running his hand along the metal railing. “I had trouble in school, too. I mean, I didn’t have ADHD or anything, I just--wasn’t that bright. I was thoroughly average in every subject except math, which I sucked at.” Sokka opened his mouth to speak, but Zuko cut him off. “And spare me the jokes about how you can’t believe an Asian kid is bad at math.”

“I wasn’t gonna make any jokes. I was gonna say you don’t sound stupid at all. You know, as hard as it may be to believe, the average person is average.”

Zuko laughed. “Not at my school, they weren’t. I went to the same school from kindergarten through high school graduation, and it was one of those ones you can only get into if your dad is a millionaire or you’re a child Einstein. I was probably the dumbest kid in all my classes. And it didn’t help that I was incredibly socially awkward, too. I only ever had one friend, and he was a scholarship kid. My dad wanted me to be friends with his friends’ kids, who were all assholes. He hated Jet even though he never even met him.”

“Hold on, Jet? Jet  _ Solano?” _

“Yeah. You know him?”

“Kinda? Not really. He and Katara dated for, like, a month when we first moved here.”

“Really?” Zuko paused for a moment. “I think he was my first crush.”

Sokka laughed. “Well, you sure dodged a bullet there.” Zuko looked at him curiously. “I didn’t like him from the moment Katara brought him home. He gave me some seriously weird vibes, so I kinda stalked him for a few days. Turned out he was the leader of some anarchist gang that wanted to blow up City Hall.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”  _ And now I have a crush on a serial arsonist,  _ Sokka thought.  _ How the tables turn. _

“Well, Jet’s dad got deported when we were in third grade, and he had to go live with his aunt in LA. My dad said it was good riddance, he’d always known that family were criminals. He moved back to Portland about ten years later. I only know that because he broke into Uncle’s tea shop and tried to kill me.”

“Weird dude.”

“Weird dude.”

They passed by the bike rental kiosk. “What time is it?” Zuko asked.

Sokka checked his watch. “Almost eleven.”

Zuko sighed. “Sorry, I’ve got to go. Lunch with some of my dad’s… associates.”

“Oh.” Sokka’s heart sank. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t had their whole day together planned out. He wheeled his bike back towards the kiosk. Zuko followed and reached for his wallet.

“Hey, I made us rent the bikes. I can pay for them.”

“What? No, I wanted to do it too. I’ll pay for my own.” He reached into his wallet and handed the vendor a bill before Zuko could stop him. He didn’t want Zuko to feel obligated to spend money on him.

“Oh. Okay.” Zuko paid for his own bike, then looked over Sokka’s shoulder.

“Who’s that?”

“Hmm?”

“Her.” Zuko pointed to the picture inside Sokka’s wallet. The girl with bright-white hair and eyes like the moon.

Sokka pulled the photo out and held it out for him to see. “It’s Yue. My girlfriend.”

Zuko took a hurried step back. “Oh. You didn’t tell me you had a girlfriend.”

“No, no!” Sokka mentally kicked himself. Why was he like this? “She… was my girlfriend. In high school. She.” He swallowed over the lump that had risen in his throat. “She died.”

“Oh.” Zuko looked at the ground. “I’m sorry. That’s… rough.”

“Yeah.”

Sokka was expecting an awkward silence, or more empty platitudes, but instead, Zuko opened his own wallet. Inside was a photo of a family in front of Sleeping Beauty’s castle at Disneyland. A woman in a red dress was smiling broadly at the camera, one hand on a shoulder of each of the two small children by her side. One of them was clearly a younger Azula, wearing a pair of Mickey Mouse ears and glaring at the camera, and the other one, Sokka realized with a start, was Zuko. His hair was longer and pulled into a ponytail, and he didn’t have the signature bright-red scar, but there was no mistaking those golden eyes. One hand was clutching a bag of popcorn and the other was clinging to the woman’s skirt.

“My--my family used to have a summer house down in Laguna Beach,” Zuko said. “Mom used to take us to Disneyland to watch the fireworks.” He rubbed the picture between his thumb and finger. “It’s the last time our family was actually happy.”

Sokka wanted to ask what had happened to Zuko’s mother, but he also didn’t want to push. So instead, he forced a breezy laugh. “Well, that was a depressing end to a wonderful morning.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it was.”

“Which one? Depressing, or wonderful?”

“Both.” Before Sokka could react, Zuko had reached over and hugged him. It was so brief Sokka almost thought he had imagined it, but his skin was tingling where they had touched. Zuko pulled back and pushed his hair out of his eyes. He smiled at Sokka, a smile almost identical to the woman in the photo. “Thanks for the day.”


	6. Chapter 6

Sokka had just sat down on the couch after a long day at work when a knock came at the door.

“I’m not getting that,” said Katara from her armchair. Sokka sighed heavily and got up.

Aang was at the door. He smiled. “Hey, Sokka!”

“Oh. Uh, hi, Aang. I thought this week’s meeting didn’t start for another hour. And it was in your dorm room.”

“Oh, it is. Don’t worry. I’m just here to borrow your car.”

Sokka frowned. “That makes me even more worried.”

“I have to pick up Toph. We can’t have meetings in her parents’ house anymore, but I still want her to be involved.”

“I’m sorry, you want the rich girl who’s just in this to break rules to be _more_ involved?” Katara interrupted without looking up. “I thought it was kind of obvious from our last meeting that that was the opposite of what we needed.”

Aang shook his head. “Toph is blunt and stubborn, but that’s what makes her useful. Believe me, I’ve been in a few classes with her, and when she wants something, nobody stands in her way. We need her.”

“Well, you’re not gonna pick her up in Janice,” Hakoda said, coming in from the kitchen. “She's a finicky creature. Takes a lot of practice to drive.”

Aang blinked. “Sorry, is Janice the name of your _car?”_

“The men in my family are idiots,” Katara grumbled.

“Well, I still need to get to Toph’s,” Aang said. “Can you drive, uh, Janice?”

“No way,” Sokka interrupted. “Did you see how the two of them acted the last time they were in a room together? If you shove them both in a car for that long of a drive you’ll have a murder scene on your hands.” He realized what this meant and deflated. “I guess I’ll have to drive.”

Aang turned to Katara. “Do you still have the key to my room?”

She fished it out of her pocket. “Yep.”

“Could you go over a few minutes ahead of time and give Appa a walk? Just a quick jaunt around campus--I don’t want him all jumpy when there are people over.”

“Sure.”

“All right,” said Sokka, grabbing the car keys from the dining room table. He had been hoping for a nice, relaxing evening, but evidently that was not to be. “Let’s go.”

* * *

  
  


Sokka and Aang drove in silence for the first few minutes. At one point, while they were stuck in a rush-hour traffic jam, Aang reached for the radio, only for his hand to meet a gaping hole.

“Radio was stolen before Dad bought it,” Sokka said. “That’s part of why he got such a good deal.”

“Oh.”

They lapsed into silence again. Sokka didn’t know much about Aang, except that Katara was dating him. He hadn’t even had a one-on-one conversation with the guy. “So… uh. Where are you from?”

“Tibet,” Aang said.

“Oh. Cool. I’m from Alaska.”

“I know.”

“Right. Katara probably told you.” Sokka felt like banging his head against the steering wheel. He had been attending meetings with Aang for weeks--how was it so hard to carry on a basic conversation with him? “How’s, uh, how’s Tibet?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been there in seven years.”

Sokka blinked. That hadn’t been the answer he was expecting. “Okay.”

“I was born in Tibet, but I grew up in Dharamsala. India. There are a lot of Tibetans there--they call it Little Lhasa. It’s where the Dalai Lama lives.”

“No way.”

“Yeah.”

Sokka thought for a moment. “You know, I’ve heard about the Dalai Lama, but I don’t really know what he does. Isn’t he like the Pope, but for Buddists?”

Aang laughed. “Sort of. I mean, only for Tibetan Buddists. There are plenty of Indian Buddhists who don’t give a shit what he says.”

“Oh.” Sokka smiled--finally, this conversation was going somewhere. “But what does he _do_ all day? I mean, when he’s not giving speeches about world peace or something?”

“I’ve only seen him once, and it was at a big public event. I’m not sure what he does in his personal time.”

“Seriously?”

Aang shrugged. “I mean, do _you_ know what the Pope does all day?”

Sokka shook his head. “But I’m not Catholic. And I didn’t grow up in Rome.”

“Touché.”

The light finally turned green, and Sokka took them into an area that was less crowded. The route was longer, so they would get to the Beifongs’ at around the same time, but he liked to keep the car moving. He _hated_ traffic--back home, you sometimes had to deal with ten-foot-deep snowdrifts or herds of moose blocking the roads, but never traffic. Now, at least he could feel like he was consistently moving forward. “I’m sure Katara’s told you our whole story. Grew up in rural Alaska, Dad’s had his warehouse here for ages, moved down here to pay for college.”

“To pay for Katara’s college,” Aang corrected.

“Yeah.”

“By the way… Katara’s really grateful that you’re doing that. I know she doesn’t really talk about it with you, but… it means a lot to her.”

“Really?”

Aang nodded. “Practically every time we talk about her plans for the future, she goes on and on about how they’re only possible because of her amazing brother sacrificing his own dreams. She really admires you, Sokka.”

“Really?” Sokka asked again. “She’s never… she’s never said that to me.”

“Well, you two are really close. All the time, at our meetings, I see you two share an idea through just a few words, or sometimes even just a look. She probably assumes you already know.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Sokka drummed his fingertips on the steering wheel, a smile slowly forming on his face. “Still, thanks for telling me. Of course I want her to be happy, but it’s nice to be appreciated, you know?”

“Of course.”

Sokka looked around. They had passed through the suburbs and were now surrounded by pine trees. It reminded him, not unpleasantly, of the forests he had passed through on the dayslong journeys to visit Yue in Anchorage. He had been shocked when he saw them for the first time. “You know, it’s still kind of jarring to see so many trees in one place. Where I grew up, not much grows over four feet.”

Aang laughed. “I know how you feel. Tibet is basically the world’s biggest mountaintop. When I got to India, I was completely blindsided by the trees, the heat, the humidity…” he turned to look at Sokka. “I bet I’d feel right at home in Alaska, though.”

Sokka nodded. “I mean, the southern part of the state is a whole different story. But if you don’t like trees, heat, and humidity, the North Slope is the place for you.”

“I’d like to visit sometime.”

“It’s a beautiful place.” Sokka chuckled. “I am a little biased, though.”

“Of course you are. It’s your home. And I’m sure it’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah. Too bad there aren’t any jobs there, though.”

“Too bad.”

Sokka glanced over at Aang. “So you know why I’m here. Why are you here?”

“What, in Portland?”

Sokka nodded.

“The short answer is that my Hindi isn’t good enough to go to a university in India, so I wrote a letter to every big school on the American West Coast, and PSU was the only one to respond. I didn’t know how to put together a real college application, and I didn’t even have a passport, but they let me in anyway and gave me a full scholarship.”

“And the long answer?”

“You really want to hear that?”

Sokka gestured to the empty road in front of them. “We’ve got a long time.”

Aang took a deep breath. “The long answer is that I’ve always wanted to do something with my life that would help Tibet. Well, not always. When I was little I wanted to become a monk. Then… well, some stuff happened. I had to leave. When I got to Dharamsala, I was put into a boarding school with a bunch of other kids like me. I saw a lot of them lose their Tibetan, and I didn’t want that to happen to me, so I started reading every scrap of text I could find, just to make sure I could still do it. Mostly that meant stealing copies of the _Tibet Post_ from the staff. I read those articles every day when I could find them, even though by the time they got to India they were a week or more out of date, and every day the news got worse. I thought, somehow, that things would get better soon, that China would leave us alone and I’d be able to go home and see my family. But that never happened. So I decided I’d go into politics and _make_ it happen.”

“Wow.” Sokka sat back. “That’s… really impressive.”

“I’m just doing what I can. I don’t want any other kids to have to go through what I did.”

“Yeah. That makes sense.” Sokka let out a long breath. He could see why Katara was attracted to this kid--compared to him, the two of them were practically sailing through life. “Is your whole family back in Tibet?”

Aang nodded. “There are loads of other Tibetans in Dharamsala, but no one from my home village. I didn’t make many friends there. Even now, Appa is my only connection to home.” He smiled and leaned back. “You should’ve seen little twelve-year-old me begging to take him with me. The local monastery’s guard dog had just had a litter, and they were all brown except for this one little ball of white fluff, and I just… fell in love with him. I begged and begged the head monk to let me take him to India, and he warned me that a puppy couldn’t go on such a long journey, but I cried so hard he eventually relented. It turned out he was right--Appa _couldn’t_ walk very far, and even when he did he kept running off in the wrong direction, so I had to carry him most of the way. Even as puppies Tibetan mastiffs aren’t exactly light.” He laughed. “I must have been quite a sight to see, a dirty little kid walking down the road holding onto a wriggling furball.”

Sokka stared at him. That was one of the saddest stories he had ever heard, and here Aang was telling it like a funny little anecdote. He was reminded of how Zuko had reacted, the previous day, when he had told an anecdote of his own--but these were two completely different situations. That had been due to his own stupidity, who _paints_ a _slanted roof_ when there’s _no one around,_ and besides, he had been completely fine a few weeks later. This was-- “A tragedy,” he said. Aang looked over at him.

“What?”

“That’s a tragedy,” he repeated. “That you had to leave your home, your family, and the only thing you could bring with you was a puppy.”

Aang shook his head. “Appa is the only part of that story that _isn’t_ a tragedy,” he said. “He’s my best friend, my link to my home--really, he _is_ my home. He’s been the one constant in my life since I was twelve.”

Sokka shook his head. “I’ve had some rough times, but my family was always there for me. I can’t imagine what it would have been like without them.”

“You shouldn’t have to imagine it. No one should.”

Sokka slowed as they approached a fork in the road. Aang pointed.

“Left.”

Within moments, a familiar wrought-iron gate came into view. Sokka whistled. “That drive was a lot faster than I thought it would be.”

“Yeah.” Aang unbuckled his seatbelt. “I guess time goes faster when you’ve got someone to talk to.”

Sokka nodded. "You know, at the beginning of this drive, I was worried we wouldn't have _enough_ to talk about."

"Life takes you in funny directions sometimes."

"That's so wise. Maybe you _should've_ been a monk."

Sokka parked by the side gate they had entered through the first time, and after peeking in to make sure there was no one around, they walked in. “Does Toph know we’re coming?” he asked. Aang shook his head.

“I would’ve told her last week, but we had to leave in a hurry.”

“Which means we have to sneak a blind girl out of her house without anyone noticing.” Sokka kicked at the gravel. “Great.”

Aang gestured to the enormous house. “So, should we… start looking in random windows?”

“Someone’ll see us if we do that. One of Toph’s parents, or a servant--do rich people have servants nowadays? Or is that just something in movies?”

Aang shrugged. “I think the rich families in Dharamsala had servants, but I’m not sure. We didn’t mix much with the Hindus.”

Sokka thought back to the meeting the previous week. “Let’s start on that side,” he said, pointing away from the setting sun.

“Why?”

“Remember what her mom said last week? _You have the whole east wing to yourself.”_ Sokka started to walk, moving quickly but making sure to stay out of view of the expansive picture windows. “That’s where she’ll be.” 

Finding Toph was the easy part. Peeking through a first-floor window, they saw her splayed across the arms of an armchair, her head thrown back and eyes half-closed. The hard part would be getting her attention without also alerting the woman who was reading to her from a folding chair in the corner. 

Sokka thought back to how he had arranged meetings with Yue on the bright summer nights, when the sun, with a stubbornness almost matching his own, steadfastly refused to set. He’d toss a handful of pebbles at her bedroom window, and a few moments later she’d appear at the door, and they’d sit on the beach together until past midnight, Qallupilluit be damned.

Throwing pebbles at Toph’s window wouldn’t work, since the aide would almost certainly notice, but last week she had heard her parents coming long before they opened the door. She was clearly capable of detecting quieter sounds than most. Still careful to keep his head out of sight, Sokka reached up and tapped rhythmically on the window with his fingers.

Toph sat up, a quizzical look on her face. The aide looked over at her, concerned, but Toph waved her off and said something Sokka couldn’t hear. The aide set the book down and left, leaving the door open behind her. Toph went over and shut it, then opened the window. “Is someone there?”

Sokka stood up from his awkward crouching position. “It’s me and Aang,” he said. She pursed her lips, then nodded in recognition.

“Sokka, right? From the No On 9 meeting? Listen, I’m sorry I was so rude to your sister last week. I just--”

“We can talk in the car,” Sokka interrupted. “Do you want to come to our meeting tonight, or not?”

A grin spread across her face. “I’m always down for breaking rules. And I’ve always dreamed of sneaking out of the house. Sort of imagined it’d be for something cooler than a political meeting, though.”

“Hey, politics can be cool,” Aang interrupted, looking a little offended.

“Saying _fuck you_ to Ozai Yamazaki and the whole damn OCA is about as cool as it gets,” Sokka said. “Now, are you coming?”

Toph frowned and tapped the window screen in front of her. “There’s probably some sort of mechanism to take the screen out, but I have no idea how it works or even where it is. And I can’t just stroll out the door--since the guest house event last week, my parents have kept every door locked. You guys got any ideas?”

Sokka looked at Aang, who shrugged. He sighed--it looked like he’d have to be the idea guy for the evening. He pulled his switchblade out of his pocket. “Hey Toph,” he said. “What’s your position on property damage?”

It took some undignified flailing and several close calls, but they eventually got the screen cut and Toph out without alerting anyone. She grabbed Sokka’s hand, and he steered her around obstacles as the three of them ran out the side gate and piled into the car, panting. Toph sprawled out across the entire backseat--Sokka was coming to realize that was her default way of sitting. She blew the hair out of her face and grinned. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun.”

Sokka started the car--which took a few tries, but it was Janice, so that was normal. “That rich and your family _still_ can’t do anything fun? Either your definition of _fun_ is ridiculous, or they’re more boring than Katara.”

“Oh, I’ve been dragged on plenty of vacations, and been to Disneyland more times than I can count--which isn’t all that interesting, by the way, when your parents won’t let you go on any rides and practically everything about the place requires you to see--but that’s all parent-planned fun. Rule-following fun. I’ve never gotten to break this many rules in one night. And I’ve never had friends to do it with.”

Sokka and Aang looked at each other. Finally, Aang said, “Well, Sokka and I are honored to be your first friends.”

“And the first people to help you sneak out of the house,” Sokka added. “And we’re happy to help you out any time you need more… sneakage.”

They pulled out onto the highway. Toph sat up, though she still didn’t put her seatbelt on. “My parents are gonna be pissed as hell when I come back,” she said. Then she laughed. “Guess that’s a problem for future-Toph.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update! School is a bitch lol. I hope you guys like it!!

“Hey, there’s what’s-her-name,” Sokka said as he pulled into a parking spot. 

“Suki,” Aang supplied. He unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out. In the back seat, Toph sat up.

“Are we here? And where’s  _ here?” _

“Aang’s residence hall at PSU,” Sokka answered. Toph fiddled with the door handle for a moment, then stepped out.

“So this is what campus is like during the summer,” she said. “Lot quieter.”

Suki waved from where she was leaning against the wall. “Door’s locked. You got a key, Aang?”

Aang nodded and unlocked it. “The administration keeps it locked during the summer. I’m the only one who lives here year-round, so they just gave me a key.”

“I kinda like it,” said Suki, following him in and looking around at the empty hall. “Be a lot easier to study if it was always like this.”

“I don’t.” Aang led them up a flight of stairs. “It’s too lonely. If I had anywhere else to stay, I would.”

“I get that. My parents live way out in the country, and that’s boring as hell, so I’m staying with a local jiu-jitsu teacher and working at his school for the summer.”

Sokka whistled. “Basketball, politics, jiu-jitsu… what  _ don’t  _ you do?”

Suki thought for a moment. “Take shit from men,” she said.

Toph grinned. “I think I’m gonna like you.”

They reached Aang’s room. He unlocked the door and threw it open. Even though he had been there before, Sokka was taken aback by the riot of color. Every wall was covered in vibrant paintings on cloth and thin panels of wood, the bed was heaped with bright patchwork blankets--even Appa’s food bowl was made of shining brass.

“Wow,” Suki said in a low voice. She reached for the painting of the Buddha that was hanging by the door, then drew her hand back. “Can I… can I step on it?” she asked, pointing at the intricate, geometric rug on the ground. 

Aang laughed. “Why would I put something on the floor that you can’t step on?” He walked inside and threw his arms out wide. “Welcome to Little  _ Little  _ Lhasa.”

Sokka elbowed Suki as he followed him in. “I was in exactly your position the first time I came here. I couldn’t even go inside for a few minutes--had to stand out in the hallway, take it all in. Katara said I looked like an idiot.”

“Oh, she was just like you when she first saw my room,” said Aang. “I love seeing people’s reactions. It’s not even that overdecorated, compared to a typical prayer room back home.”

“Well, I have no idea what you guys are talking about,” Toph proclaimed, pushing Sokka and Suki out of the way. She felt her way to the bed and flopped down on it. “Bed’s pretty comfortable, though.” 

Suki sat crosslegged on the rug and closed the door behind her. “This is beautiful, Aang.”

He smiled. “Thanks. Since I stay here year-round, I get to make the place into a little more of a home.”

Sokka thought of Yue’s hospital room.  _ Bright blankets to make the walls less bare, knitted scarves and fur hats to keep warm, soapstone amulets for good luck. _ “I get that.”

Aang pulled his chair out from his desk, cleared off the pile of wool blankets, and sat down. “Sorry my room doesn’t have more seats,” he said. “I’d say feel free to sit on the bed, but it looks like Toph already claimed it.”

“Huh?” Toph asked, her voice slightly muffled by the fact that she was lying facedown on a pillow.

Sokka, who had spent his entire life with an annoying little sister, simply shoved her legs to the side and plopped down. She huffed at him, then reluctantly sat up.

A knock came at the door. “That must be Katara back with Appa,” Aang said, standing up. Sokka suddenly remembered something Toph had said the previous week and held out an arm.

“Wait! We can’t let Appa in here. Toph, aren’t you allergic to dogs?”

Toph nodded. “I can’t even go into a room that’s had a dog in it unless it’s been vacuumed, ventilated, wiped down…” she frowned. “Did you do that in this room?”

Aang shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Toph, I completely forgot you were allergic.”

Toph’s frown deepened. “Then I should’ve been sneezing nonstop this whole time and my face should’ve swollen to the size of a basketball. But I’m fine.”

Aang’s hand hovered over the doorknob. “So… should I…”

“Open it.”

Katara entered the room, followed by the enormous white mastiff, who bounded up to Aang and began excitedly licking his face. He laughed. “Yeah, it’s been too long, buddy.”

Toph reached over, found Appa with her hand, and, to Sokka’s surprise, promptly buried her face in his fur. She emerged after a moment and shook her head. “Nothing. Not even the slightest urge to sneeze.”

Katara watched all of this with a very confused look on her face. “What’s going on?”

“Toph’s not allergic to dogs after all,” Aang explained.

“My parents lied to me. They knew it would be harder to control me if I got a guide dog, so they  _ lied.”  _ Toph punched the mattress with so much force Sokka nearly fell over. “I can’t fucking believe this.”

Sokka and Katara glanced at each other.  _ What do we do?  _ he could tell she was thinking. He shrugged. He had never had to deal with a situation like this before.

“Toph, I’m really sorry--” Suki placed a hand on her shoulder, but Toph shrugged it off.

“‘S nothing. Really. I don’t even know why I’m surprised. It’s exactly something they would do.”

She climbed back onto the bed and covered her head with Aang’s pillow. 

“O--okay,” Sokka said uncertainly. “Well. Since everyone’s here, we can start.” He opened his notebook. “First, the Mass at St. Mary’s was great. Everything went really smoothly, and a lot of people came up to me afterwards to thank us for coming. Even Father Piandao.”

“Sokka’s cru-ush,” Katara cooed.

Sokka rolled his eyes. Ever since he admitted to having a crush on his sophomore-year math teacher, she had teased him about virtually every male authority figure they knew. “He’s a  _ priest  _ and he’s  _ three times my age,  _ thank you very much,” he said. 

“Plus, you’re all hung up on some mystery man you’ve barely met.”

“This isn’t about that!” Sokka took a deep breath. “Anyway, the bad news is that the next day, someone broke in and spraypainted _Fag Church_ across the walls.”

Katara raised a hand to her mouth. “Oh.”

“That’s not even the worst of it. The whole place is trashed. Broken windows, ripped-up carpets, and the entire altar’s been destroyed.” Sokka glanced around at the gathered group. Suki was staring at him with wide eyes, Aang looked concerned, and Toph didn’t appear to be feeling anything at all, though it was difficult to tell. “I volunteered to come over tomorrow and help clean up. If anyone else would be willing to--”

“I’ll go,” Aang interrupted.

“Me too,” said Suki.

Katara frowned. “I’ve got work until five, but I can come over after that if there’s still work to be done.”

“Sounds good.”

All eyes turned to Toph. She didn’t look up. After a moment, Katara coughed. “Uh, Toph?”

“Oh, were you guys looking at me?”

Sokka gave a short laugh. “Right. Blind.”

Toph shook her head. “I don’t think I’d be much help. Besides, I won’t be able to get out of the house unless we organize another escape operation--and after tonight, I bet I’ll be grounded ‘til I’m fifty.”

“Oh.” Sokka picked at the bedspread beneath him. “Sorry.”

“Worth it.”

Sokka smiled, glad she had such a high opinion of his company, then realized how boring her life must be if hanging out with four other people`for a night was worth being grounded for thirty years.

Katara leaned over his shoulder and pointed to the next item on his list. “Ooh, there’s a rally in a few days--oh, it’s for Karen Kuei. I hate her.”

“None of us  _ like  _ her, Katara, but we have to support her if we don’t want Yamazaki in charge.”

“But she’s so  _ neutral  _ on everything that matters!”

“ _ Neutral  _ is better than  _ horrible. _ And at least she’s come out against Measure 9.”

“Whatever,” Katara huffed. That was one of the biggest differences between the two, and the only one that caused real, full-blown fights: Sokka was sometimes willing to compromise for important issues; Katara never was. It was the youngest-child in her, he supposed--though, he had to admit, he sometimes admired the strength with which she fought for her convictions.

“Well, if anyone  _ other than Katara  _ is interested in coming, it’s at the Roosevelt High gym on Thursday,” he said. Aang nodded.

“I think I’ll go. I’d like to get involved in the campaign. With all the languages I speak, I think I could help them connect to the Asian community.”

“Good idea. I’m sure they’d appreciate the help.” Sokka glanced down at his notebook. “Okay, I think that’s it. Unless anyone else has any announcements?”

Suki raised her hand. “Actually, I do. You know how I’m working at a ju-jutsu school this summer?”

“Yeah. By the way, could you teach me how to flip a guy over and throw him halfway across the room? I saw it in a movie once and I’ve always wanted to try.”

Suki laughed. “Well, I’m not sure if I can do  _ that. _ But I can show you some basic stuff. I talked to my boss this morning, and he said I can use the space to teach self-defense classes to members of the gay community.” She paused and looked down at the rug. “You know, since everything’s gotten so… violent.”

“That’s good.” Lately, being publicly out in Oregon had been like walking around with a target taped to your back. And Sokka was lucky: his name or photo hadn’t been published in any newspapers or shown on TV. If it had, he would have gotten a dozen death threats or worse.

“How does Friday nights sound? The school closes at seven, and all the other employees should be out by seven-thirty.”

“I’ll be there!” Sokka took the pencil Katara offered him and scribbled a quick note at the bottom of the agenda. A thought came to his mind. “Hey, do you mind if I put an announcement about it in  _ Just Out? _ I bet there are a lot of other people who would love to come.”

Suki pursed her lips. “I’d have to ask my boss. It might bring some… unwanted attention.”

Right. In the eyes of the OCA and their supporters, publicly supporting the gay community was almost as bad as being gay yourself. “Well, no pressure. I’m happy to just spread it by word-of-mouth.” He looked around. “Anything else?”

Nobody spoke.

“Okay, then the meeting is adjourned. Next meeting’s at our house, be there or you’re homophobic. Have a good week, everyone!”

“Bye, guys!” Suki said as she walked out. Sokka pulled his car keys out of his pocket.

“Katara, I hope you’re okay with walking home. Unless you want to come with me to drop Toph off.”

“I’ll walk.” She glanced at Toph. “Listen, I know we kind of got off on the wrong foot last week, but I’m glad you’re here. And I’m sorry about you getting… grounded until you’re fifty.”

Toph sat up. “You know what? I don’t  _ want  _ to be grounded until I’m fifty. And I don’t want to live with people who lie to control me.”

Sokka and Katara glanced at each other. “Well, that makes sense, but… it’s not like there’s much anyone can--”

“I’m not going home.”

Katara shook her head. “Toph, I don’t know what world you think you live in, but you can’t just  _ not go home.” _

“I’m not going. You can’t make me.”

Katara leaned towards Sokka. “Scratch what I said before. She’s a brat.”

“I  _ heard  _ that!”

Sokka sighed. “Toph, what’s your plan?”

Toph shrugged. “Stay in a hotel until school starts again, then get a dorm room.”

“Do you even have any money?”

Her face fell. “No.”

Katara pinched the bridge of her nose. She gave Sokka a meaningful look--the same look as when their high-school English teacher had volunteered them to run the after-school tutoring program, the same look as when the editor of  _ Just Out _ had suggested they start a No On 9 group for local youth. The look said,  _ this is our responsibility now, isn’t it? _

“I don’t think our dad will complain if you crash on our couch for a night or two,” she said. “But after that, you  _ have  _ to make a real plan.”

Toph nodded. “All right.” She climbed down off of the bed and started to walk out the door. Then she turned around. “And… thanks.”

Katara nodded and followed her out.


	8. Chapter 8

They drove in silence for the first few minutes. Katara was in the driver’s seat, sitting as she always did when she drove (perfect posture and both hands on the wheel, because, as she said, “It would be downright rude of me to not look like I care about my passengers’ safety”). Sokka was slouched over in the passenger seat, one hand hanging out the open window. Toph, as usual, was flopped down in the back.

“So,” Katara said, coming to a stop at a red light, “Dad told me you went on another date with Mystery Man today.”

“Would you  _ please  _ stop calling him that?”

“I will when you can give me any facts about him other than ‘He’s, like, so totally hot’.”

“I do  _ not _ sound like that!”

“You absolutely sound like that.”

Sokka sighed. “Anyway. Yes, I went to the park with Zuko. Although I’m not sure if you could call it a date. I’m not sure if you could call either of the times we’ve met dates.”

“You two seriously need to come up with a definition of  _ date  _ and stick with it. I mean, my first date with Aang was in a supermarket, and we both agreed that was what it was.”

“That’s because every time a girl and guy even breathe in each other’s direction, it’s seen as romantic!” Sokka said exasperatedly. “How am I supposed to know if he just sees us as friends?”

The light turned green and Katara pulled forward. “Walk me through what happened.”

“I went over to his uncle’s tea shop. Which was where I was planning on taking  _ you,  _ before you so rudely blew me off.” Had that really been this morning? It felt like a million years ago. “He fell off a ladder onto me. That was awkward and also painful. But also… weirdly hot?”

“I do  _ not  _ need to hear you fantasize about Mystery Man tumbling romantically into your arms,” Katara said.

“Hey, you asked! Anyway, it wasn’t very romantic, and he  _ definitely  _ didn’t tumble into my arms. It was more of a…” Sokka tried to demonstrate what had happened with his hands, then realized she wasn’t looking and gave up. “It was more of a  _ whump.” _

“A  _ whump. _ Got it.”

“Anyway, then we went to the park, but on the way I think I kind of unintentionally freaked him out with a stupid old story. You remember that time I tried to paint the roof?”

Katara snorted. “God, yeah. Definitely in the running for dumbest thing you’ve ever done. And, by the way, Toph,” she added with a glance at the back seat, “That’s saying something.”

“I don’t know,” Toph replied. “I think he’s pretty smart. I mean, who else would’ve thought to cut the window screen open to get me out of my parents’ house?”

“You did  _ what?” _ Katara turned to Sokka incredulously.

“It was fine. We’re all alive, and the Beifongs probably won’t have me arrested over something that small.” Sokka looked out the window as they passed the park. It was mostly empty, now, and the sun was setting over the river. “We rented bikes. I taught him how to ride.”

Katara raised her eyebrows. “Now that’s an interesting bit of information. How did he not know how to ride a bike?”

Sokka shrugged. “He said he learned when he was little, but that was when he could see out of both eyes.”

Katara stared at him. “He has  _ one eye?  _ Why didn’t you tell me that?”

“He’s not missing the other eye, he just can’t see very well out of it. I don’t know, it just never came up. Why, are you on the lookout for a one-eyed man?”

“No, it just… seems like the kind of thing you’d mention.” Katara turned her gaze back to the road. “Sorry. Go on.”

“We talked a little about our childhoods. He used to be friends with Jet Solano.”

“No way!”

“That’s exactly how I reacted!” Sokka laughed. “Apparently they were friends in elementary school. And he was Zuko’s first crush.”

“That’s insane.”

“Isn’t it?”

“What happened next?”

“Well, then he had to go. We returned the bikes--he tried to pay for mine, but I wouldn’t let him--and--”

“Hang on, hang on,” Katara interrupted. “You didn’t let him pay for your bike? Why?”

“I didn’t want him to feel like he had to spend money on me. Or to think I’m poor.”

Katara sighed. “Sokka, as smart as you are, you’re an idiot sometimes.”

“What?”

“Do I have to spell it out for you? In what situation are two people out together and one of them pays for the other one’s stuff?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “A date. And what did your Mystery Man do today? Tried to pay for your stuff.” Her eyes met Sokka’s in the rearview mirror. “He was asking if you were on a  _ date,  _ Sokka. And you said no.”

That sounded unnecessarily convoluted to him. “You think?”

“Obviously.”

Sokka groaned. “Why does everything have to be so complicated? Why can’t people just say what they mean?”

“If you really think that, next time you see him, tell him right up front that you’re into him.”

He blanched. “I don’t--I don’t think I could do that.”

“Exactly.” Without Sokka noticing, they had arrived at their house. Katara pulled into the driveway and threw open her door. “Welcome to Chez Taqqiq.”

“Looks gorgeous,” Toph deadpanned, climbing out. “What’s  _ chez  _ mean?”

“French,” Sokka said. “It means  _ cheese.” _

“It does  _ not.”  _ Katara flicked him on the side of the head. Toph snorted. She sighed. “You two are gonna get along well, aren’t you?”

“Like a house on fire. Which, incidentally,” he added to Toph, “is what she spends most of her free time putting out.”

“Not a huge fan of arson, then, I guess?” Toph asked. Sokka stiffened. Did she somehow know the identity of his “Mystery Man”?

Katara shook her head. “Of course not.”

“Too bad. It’s one of my top three favorite forms of property damage.”

Sokka let out an exhale. It was just a joke. But that raised the question: how the hell was he going to tell his sister that he was dating a leader of the Agni Kais?

Katara climbed up the steps and threw the door open. “We’re home!”

“Hey, guys!” Hakoda called, standing up from his chair. Then he looked out into the driveway. “Who’s this?”

“This is Toph. She…” Katara looked at Sokka. What did they say?

Sokka opted to say as little as possible. “She doesn’t have a place to stay right now.”

“My parents are assholes,” Toph supplied helpfully.

“So, uh, we were wondering if she could stay here for the night.” Katara looked up at her dad. “Please?”

Hakoda looked Toph up and down, then nodded. “If the only other option is for you to sleep on the street, then fine.”

“Thanks! You’re the best.” Katara hugged him and walked inside. Sokka nodded at his dad as he followed her. Coming from a village where everyone knew everyone, he knew it was hard to just accept a total stranger into his home.

Hakoda held the door open for an uncomfortable minute as Toph grappled and stumbled her way up the stairs, swearing the whole time. “Do you… want some help?”

She glared at him. “I don’t need anything from you.”

“You’re staying in my house.” 

“I don’t need anything  _ else  _ from you.”

“Right.” Hakoda stepped aside and she walked in.

“Um, this is the couch, make yourself at home,” Sokka said, then realized she didn’t have any bags to unpack.

“I’ll get some blankets,” Katara said and disappeared into her room.

Hakoda and Sokka stared at each other. “What do we do?” whispered Sokka. Toph, evidently, heard--he’d have to remember how good her ears were.

“You could make dinner. I’m starving.”

Hakoda shook his head. “She’s going to be a difficult guest, isn’t she?”

* * *

Dinner was an uncomfortable situation that involved Toph deliberately pushing all of Katara’s buttons, Sokka trying desperately to cover for her complete disregard for manners, and Hakoda asking Toph questions about herself, only for them all to get rebuffed in three words or less. Finally, Katara got so fed up that she shoved back her chair, cleared the entire table (despite the fact that Sokka was still eating) and stalked into the kitchen. Hakoda stood up too. “So, is anyone up for a movie?”

“I was actually going to go to bed early,” Katara called over the running of the sink and the clinking of dishes. “I’ve had a pretty long day.”

“And I’ve gotta put together a pamphlet for Cool People Against Measure 9,” said Sokka. “I’m hoping to distribute them to other students at the Kuei rally, grow our group.”

“That’s a good idea,” Hakoda said with an appreciative nod.

“You’d better change the name to something less stupid if you want anyone to join,” Katara yelled.

“I love you, too.”

“We’re all being boring and going to bed early, then? Sounds good to me.” Hakoda pushed his chair back in and headed towards the door. Then he turned back around. “Oh, and Sokka, put those blankets out for Toph, will you? I’ll go to the corner store and buy her a toothbrush. Katara, could you lend her some clothes?” Sokka nodded and he left.

Toph shook her head. “Like I said, I don’t need anything from you. Not blankets, not a toothbrush, and  _ definitely  _ not Katara’s clothes, which I’m assuming are ugly.”

“Are you  _ trying  _ to make my sister mad?”

“Yeah. Is it working?”

Sokka glanced through the kitchen doorway. Katara had turned the water up so hot steam was rising from the sink, and she was scrubbing an already-clean plate like she was trying to grind it into dust. “Yeah.”

Toph flopped down on the couch and smirked. “Thought so.”

Sokka sat down on the ottoman next to her. “Listen, could you at least try to be nice to my family?”

“I don’t have a good history with families.”

“I know, but--we’re trying to help you. And it kind of hurts that you’re pushing us away.”

“Don’t talk to me like a damn family therapist. My parents made me go to one of those the first time I tried to run away.”

Sokka nodded. “I guess we have that in common, then. A shitty experience with therapists.”

Toph rolled over to face him. He knew she would never outright ask him to continue, but he got the idea she wanted him to.

“Our dad took us to one after our mom died. It was a three-hour drive, and I was never good at staying still for that long, so I was already in a pretty bad mood by the time we got there. And Katara--”

“I stopped talking for a few months after Mom died,” she said. Sokka started--he hadn’t noticed her appear behind him. “The therapist didn’t know how to deal with that. She spent a few minutes trying to convince me to talk, then basically ignored me for the rest of the hour.”

“Yeah, well, you didn’t miss much.” Sokka turned back to Toph. “She was this saccharine-sweet white lady who talked in a high-pitched voice and told us to call her  _ Aunty Kay.  _ Well, where we come from, we call basically any older woman Aunty, but I made an exception for that bitch.”

“She had the nerve to call our mom  _ Mom.  _ As in,  _ I know you really miss Mom,  _ or,  _ What do you think Mom would say? _ It was like she thought we were too stupid to understand that her name wasn’t Mom, or she was trying to convince us she knew what we were going through, when she obviously didn’t.”

“But the straw that really broke the camel’s back--what made Dad say  _ fuck this _ and leave without even stopping to get the deposit back--was when she said, ‘I know family is really important to the Eskimos.’” Sokka laughed. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw Katara snicker too. “I mean, if you can’t even get the name of our culture right, maybe you aren’t qualified to tell us what’s wrong with us. Just a thought.”

“I know what you mean. The guy my parents took me to told me  _ the Chinese have traditionally had a fraught relationship with authority.  _ Like their control-freak-ness was a gift from Qin Shi Huang himself.” Toph thought for a moment. “I’m pretty sure he was white. I should’ve asked him. That would’ve thrown him off.”

Katara was shaking her head slowly. “What the hell did your nationality have to do with anything?”

“And then, a few weeks later, he asked if I saw my blindness as a metaphor for the fact that I didn’t have a clear vision of the future.”

Sokka snorted. “And what did you say to that?”

“I told him all my blindness symbolized was the fact that I couldn’t fucking see. Then  _ he  _ said a little girl shouldn’t know a word like that, and I told him to fucking deal with it.”

Katara leaned against the back of the couch and laughed. “I wish I’d had the balls to say that to Not-Aunty Kay.”

“Yeah, well, then my dad decided I had anger issues and hired a ‘behavioral health consultant’ to monitor me all day, so maybe it wasn’t the brightest idea.” She sat up and pulled her knees to her chest. Sokka stood up from the ottoman and sat down beside her. 

“Well, now you’re with us. And you’d better believe we’re not gonna let any _behavioral health consultants_ anywhere near you.”

“Thanks.”

Katara reached over the back of the couch and tugged at the scrunchie around Toph’s bun. Toph whipped around. “Who’s touching me?”

Katara pulled her hands away. “Me. Sorry. I just wanted to braid your hair.”

Toph still looked suspicious. 

“Girls braid each other’s hair all the time where we come from,” Sokka explained. He could see, in his mind’s eye, Katara sitting with her friends in the school cafeteria, in a long line with each girl’s hands in the hair of the one in front of her. His sister had always sat at the back--always the one to help others without asking for anything for herself. “It’s sort of a sign of friendship.”

“Oh.” Toph relaxed somewhat. “I like people to ask before they touch me. You know, because I can’t see it coming.”

“Right. Of course. Sorry.” Katara’s face was bright pink. She started to walk away.

Toph reached up and pulled out the scrunchie. Her hair tumbled down over her shoulders. “You can,” she said softly. “If you want.”

Katara smiled.

The door swung open and Hakoda came through, his arms loaded with bags. Katara laughed and ran to help him. “I thought you were only going to get a toothbrush!”

“I got distracted,” he said, shifting a few of them into his daughter’s arms and setting the others down on the dining room table. Toph huffed and pulled her hair back into a bun.

Sokka moved to pat her shoulder, then remembered what she had said and pulled his hand away. “Don’t feel bad. Katara’s got a bit of a one-track mind--family is everything.”

“Yeah. And you’re family now.” Katara put down the bags she was holding and came back over. “Can I?”

Toph took the scrunchie back out. “Go ahead.”

Katara’s practiced fingers moved with lightning speed. “So, Dad,” she called, “what did you end up getting?”

Hakoda was sorting out the items on the kitchen counter. “Well, the orange soda was on sale, so I got a couple bottles for Sokka--”

Sokka rolled his eyes. He had been obsessed with orange soda when he was eleven and nobody had ever let him forget it.

“--a bag of chips, a pack of Oreos, some salmon--it’ll never be as good as fresh caught, but I was feeling a bit nostalgic--and some salt, because I remembered we were running low.”

“And the toothbrush?” Katara asked. Hakoda slapped his forehead.

“The toothbrush!”

* * *

The toothbrush was, eventually, acquired. The couch was easily set up into a rough approximation of a bed. Katara lent Toph an old T-shirt and pair of sweatpants as pajamas (Sokka assured her they weren’t ugly). After one last check to make sure she didn’t need anything, the Taqqiqs retired to their respective bedrooms.

Sokka had to admit, he still wasn’t used to having his own bedroom. Back home, especially in the winter, they needed to conserve heat, and that meant restricting activity to as few rooms as possible. Sometimes he and Katara had even shared a twin bed when relatives came to visit. That had usually resulted in one or both of them kicking, hogging the blankets, or straight-up pushing the other off the bed. And a lot of tiredness-induced irritability the next day. Honestly, it was a miracle their relatives didn’t think they were monsters.

There were some good times, though. On the rare occasion they didn’t get into a fight, they’d make a tent out of the covers and tell ghost stories until whoever they were sharing the room with yelled at them to be quiet. When Gran-Gran gave them a real traditional quilt for their birthdays (their birthdays were within the same week and there was rarely money to buy two presents), they both wanted it so badly they decided to sleep under it together, even though there was nobody in the other bed.

He wasn’t sure what time it was when he woke up and heard crying in the room next to his. He stood up, slid his slippers on, and walked over.

In the half-light of the streetlamp outside he could see Katara huddled on her bed, face buried in her knees. Sokka knocked quietly on the ajar door. She sat up.

“Sokka?”

“Hey.” He came in and sat at her desk chair. “What’s up?”

“It’s stupid,” she said, hurriedly wiping her eyes.

“No, it’s not. Whatever it is, it’s not.” Sokka leaned back in the chair. “Listen, last week at around this time you told me that when Mom died you felt alone. I know there’s nothing I can do for eight-year-old Katara, but… I don’t want you to feel that way again. Not if I can help it.”

Katara smiled. “Thanks,” she said in a barely-audible whisper.

“You’re welcome.” He sat back, trying to get comfortable in the chair, but it was hard, and, even though it was summer, the air was quite chilly for a T-shirt and boxers. He gestured to the blankets on her bed. “Can I--”

She gave a quiet laugh. “Oregon has spoiled you.”

“I know,” Sokka said. This time of year back home, he’d probably be sporting this exact same outfit, even though it rarely got above 50.

Katara rolled over and patted the mattress beside her. “Get over here, you spoiled brat.”


End file.
